Sparks and Metal
by Jatd4ever
Summary: It would not do, what does a blacksmith need of a Knight? (Jane/Smithy)
1. Chapter 1: Foolish

**I DON'T OWN JANE AND THE DRAGON OR ITS CHARACTERS**

 **This is going to be a multi chapter fic, which will be a challenge. Another challenge is this possibly, most likely a Jane /Smithy fic. I really do believe there aren't enough Smithy fics, and I'm hoping he won't be too Ooc. Let me know if he is and I'll be happy to make the possible corrections.**

 **I started writing this because I read t** **he Love of a Lady Knight** **by Wild-Imagination95, and fell in love with the story and the slow burn romance. Sadly that fic is uncompleted, but I recommend it, and I hope it's finished someday.**

 **Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Foolish**

He dreamed of her again.

When he woke, he was not so much ashamed, but embarrassed. It was natural to dream of daily activity, or of many fantastical things, but of his friends, her more specifically, he should not. However, at least he was happy, if not for a little while as he dressed and thought to himself about the foolishness a dream could be. The bite of the morning air prickled his exposed skin, but he knew that refreshment would not last when he was before his forge again. On this day, he was not so hungry as he had been on other days, so he took a few apples to eat later.

Dawn was painted in the sky before long, the sight of it hopeful and bright. The rising sun meant little to those in his position, who woke early, and worked from morning to night. Time was moving, there was so much to be done, time would not allow him to enjoy such comforts as dawn. In a castle, even in one with as few inhabitants as Kippernia Castle, there were keys to be made, buckles to be broken, items to be hung, and so on and so forth. Already, early in the day, he had several horses which needed to be brushed, and inspected.

Oh, and how could he forget, Sir Ivon wanted his latest weapon to be sharpened, just so that it may go back to the weaponry to collect dust. He sighed, and soon enough he laid out the necessary pieces needed for the repair he planned to do later. From the shade of his forge, he had a good view of the knights as they trained their squires, and he watched from time to time. Oh yes, he watched her from time to time, and that was the problem. In the world in which he lived, there would likely be problems with his current thinking, but he could not bring himself not to do so.

Admiration in the discipline, fluid movements, concentration in the brow, her face was not so pretty when she struck the dummy in violence, but there was something comforting in the familiarity, as well as intrigue in the change. The dummy stood no chance against her demonstration, neither did he. Years of practice made it almost a game, the happiness and joy gleamed in her eyes, as well as excitement and strength illuminated her form. Steps, her movement like a dance, it was too glorious to ignore. Passion made her unique, a dream gave her encouragement to continually work, to continue learning, to be the best she could possibly be.

He must have been overworked, why else would his mind begin to dwell?

It would not do, what does a blacksmith need of a Knight? To be in their service no doubt, to fire the metal, a servant no less. To avoid, it would be difficult, but not impossible. So avoid it he must, and he hurried into the stables to keep busy. Her voice carried, authority with humility he would say, and discipline with patience.

Every year, farmers or fighters were sent down to the castle to see if there was any use for them, for their families wished to improve their state of living, or to keep sons out of trouble. Jane loved a challenge, a test or practice of her skills. If they proved themselves worthy, then they received the honor of being taught by the few knights in the king's service. If not, then they were sent away, with letters of recommendation to assist them in their future endeavors.

Pig observed her owner, the listless look as he polished a few swords, the years worth of sigh, the trouble which lined his brows. Humans, so dishonest, if only they were animals, it would be as easy as scented glands and food offerings. In her mouth, she carried a shiny buckle which earned her a belly rub and fresh turnip from the garden. "Where did you find this girl?"

Her snout sniffed and pointed in an unwanted direction, leading Smithy again towards his forge. Smithy stopped before leaving the stables, knowing there was much work to be done still. He must ignore her, and work hard to forget impetuous feelings. The weaponry room received its due attention, which took a better part of the morning. The quality of metal varied from the age and style of weapon or sword. In the far corner there was a dull practice sword, much like the one he owned back home.

The remainders of his past could be felt if he removed his gloves. Calluses, mixed with scattered burn scars from his current occupation. Father taught him well, of the dangers of thieves and robbers, to make his emotions invisible, to fool others into believing he was less than what he was, to fight with little mess. If he took up sword again like he had many years ago, perhaps his thoughts would not be in vain.

If he wanted to, he could easily equal Gunther in skill, but match Sir Theodore in discipline.

However, he was unlike his father, and he preferred it that way.

* * *

Jane rubbed salve on her tired hands, its effect cooling. She was happy to have a little time to herself before she would be required to changed into more formal attire. When one protected the Queen, style and appearance were above everything else. Even if Jane was allowed to wear her armor, it was only with the modified gown she was required to wear. Over the years, she had learned the benefits and downsides to being a female and a Knight, but she was both, and more often than not she took pride in it.

At one time, she would have refused to be seen in such fabrics, afraid of Gunthers teasing. The first time she wore them, Gunther had seen, and had not teased her, but stood silent. It was peculiar, she had to admit, but she was relieved. Jester thought her appearance wonderful, showering her with various compliments, but those made her feel cautious. The attention received was unwanted, but the words of another comforted her. When Smithy had first seen her, and she was needed him to ready her horse so that she could follow the Queen and her ladies. At that time, he expressed his simple congratulation and he complimented how the armor suited her smile.

Those memories gladdened her heart as she dressed in those garments she sometimes hated, but it tested it as well. Gunther would not be pleased to see her talking to another, nor would Jester be happy if she choose her fellow Knight. Another trouble with being a female is that you are sent to humble in submission. Why did she have to choose? Could she not enjoy her life s little longer before her mother badgered of duties and all that?

One day, she hoped, there would be someone who understood her heart as well as she did, to allow her to live and breath, and be her compliment and companion in life. However, she would choose when she was ready, and she did not care to yet. Fixing her hair, and rubbing scented oils on her skin, she sighed and left her tower, determined to do her best. Down the stairs, she crossed the courtyard, and smiled at Smithy who was washing her horse. He looked troubled for a moment, his cloudy blue eyes looked away, but then they shone with a fire she could not explain, and he smiled at her with a brightness he hardly showed.

She quickened her pace then, her foolish heart becoming a tangled mess. She knew better than to appear too eager, or to display more emotion than she intended to show. She knew better than to believe friendship could be confused with anything else, and had to remember how kindness shown was simply his way. Off to the throne room she went, away from such distractions. His eyes followed her figure, until she disappeared around a corner. Smithy hoped she could not see his feelings.


	2. Chapter 2: Patience and Tests

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **Originally I thought this would only be a two chapter story, but now I've written three chapters, and I don't think it will all be solved in such a short span of time, so I'm hoping for the best. I like writing about Smithy, even though there is so much we do not know about him. I think he is observant, and sometimes sarcastic, so I'll try my best to betray him properly.**

* * *

In the royal garden, Jester told his stories to the King, who was enjoying the sun before he had to go and listen to the townspeople's problems.

"... A rose is a rose I suppose, to those who know it has no nose. I close the door forevermore on those I cannot face. I call from grace, for everything that had been said, is forever a disgrace"

The King twirled how fingers on a half-hearted fashion. "Excellent! Well done, but I am tired of the tragedies, I want something with a happy ending"

Like this creative that he was, he crafted a story as though from nothing, and thought of familiar people who would serve his story purposes.

 _"There once was a blacksmith who fell in love with a flame. Now to others it may have sounded like divination, but in actuality it was not the fire he had loved, but a girl who reminded him of the flame, for her hair often more than not fluttered and waved about in the wind like a spark turned flame. Her mind was sharp, as well as her manner tempestuous, but he was of a more gentle sort and found amusement in her ways. He knew there was little he could do, for she was above his station, except perhaps do what he usually did, and deal with metal._

 _An idea came to him, that if he could not become or a control a flame, then he must become like those who could withstand its heat. He formed himself a suit of armor, similar to what the girl would wear, and was determined to be her compliment. She hated him immediately, for she stood alone and needed no one, he knew this, but he expressed his intentions, and still she was the tempest he knew. In respect, he challenged her to an honorable duel, and if he should win, then he would get one wish, but if she won, then she may kill him._

 _With his armor and shield, he guarded and evaded, while she struck him with various blows. After a while, blood from cuts ran along his face and arms, but he stood his ground. Her stubborn heart began to see reason, but she would not fail, or else he would win, and she would become a slave to his wish. This went on until the evening, until fatigue got the better of her, and he was left standing as the winner. He kneeled before her, ready with his wish, and she hated him more than ever._

 _However, she was surprised by his wish which was to be able to stand by her in silence, to be her strength and shield even if he knew she could protect herself, but nothing more. Her eyes widened at this, for she was sure he intended to take her as his wife, and she lose her way of life. Humbled by his loyalty and strength, she agreed to this, and in time she fell in love with him, for she could not love by halves and they were married. Together, they battled enemies in the battlefield, him deflecting blows, her striking foes. Together, they strengthened and loved, as equals and each other's compliments"_

"This is a new class of story, yes? It is unheard of"

"Yes my Lord, but it could happen, other impossible things have happened before"

"Yes, now tell me the story of the Roman tragedy again"

"Yes, my lord "

* * *

"I am so hungry I could eat a horse"

"Ugh, not if you spent as much time mucking their stables"

Jane flashed her friend that beguiling look which he knew meant nothing more than her usual mischievous. If only she knew how burdensome such a look would play over in his mind hours later, when it was thought of as nothing but a look in her wonderful mind. "Then I am simply hungry, for anything but liver"

Smithy would not test it, it was not the time.

Meal time as always was lively, and was still the tradition the young staff kept over the years. Smithy allowed himself to be content for moment, seeing as all was well, and how he could delight in the happiness of his friends. After they had eaten the evening meal of mutton and simple vegetables, they showered praise upon pale cook. "The vegetables were wonderful… Pepper." smiled the gardener at his petite wife.

Rake neither concealed his devotion nor adoration of beloved. The pair might have been married for a few years, but they still were shy when it came to public displays of affection. "Oh Rake," she whispered, gifting him with a kiss on his forehead. "you are such a wonderful man."

Was it not natural they would feel adoration for one another?

Across from Smithy, Jane and Jester were laughing at some joke the jester had said in her ear. There was no grace in her laughter, it was sloppy, unlady like, and her face scrunched up in what would have appeared to be great pain if she was not smiling. Smithy stood, his face like the calm before a storm, and with the excuse of tiredness left before dessert could be offered. Envy colored his palette, tainting the pleasure such a meal could bring. With heavy steps, he escaped to his dwelling next to that stables.

At his departure, the corners of the fool's mouth turned upward, and he continued as though nothing was amiss.

* * *

Smithy was above feeling, stoicism was his shield, but somewhere there were hairline cracks. If he had continued his studies, then perhaps his mind would have been too cluttered to weaken. When did he become this way?

Who was he kidding, he could hardly remember the way those lines and squiggles became letters, which flooded and drown together are words, and bodies of texts which fill codex after codex. He was human after all, how disappointing it would have been to his father. This made him smile a little, his father was a little less than human.

"Meow" spoke his kindly friend.

"What adventures have you had since I saw you last?"

With her tail waving about, she mewed again. She was good company, she spoke very little, even if he would never understand what she had said.

"I see, well have do not wait on my account. As you were Mercy."

The sound of mice no longer disturbed Smithy, for the starved cat he had found not long ago, was busy at her duty. No longer were the rib bones visible, or her eyes so cautious, but with a sense of belonging she settled in the castle grounds, keeping it pest free to that best of her ability. With grace, the tawny feline walked about the beams, searching for its latest prey in the regal way such creatures carried themselves. It must be wonderful to have claws climb, with fur to keep warm, and the freedom of defiant independence which they lived by. If course, it was mostly admiration, for he did not mind being a man, except when it was distressing.

The bed of hay he called a bed reminded him of his boyhood days before his removal to the castle. Perhaps his mother was sitting before a fire, humming the ancient songs of her country land, nursing the children of his neighbors, or whispering her dreams and thoughts to the hills and mountains. Without his work attire, he was just Jethro Junior, the pig farmer he was born to be, the person he was meant to be. Work, food, and rest, there had to be more than just the repeat of daily chore. What of the world? Its creatures he longed to acquaint himself with? With all the sweet figs to eat? Or the freedom in the leisure of exploration?

Life, its nuances did not seem to be enough at times, and there was longing for excitements and perhaps even…he would not mention.

Before he could make himself sick with the drink, Pig squealed, waking him from whatever it was he planned to do. "I should not, it would not do to be inebriated while on duty, but what of now Pig?"

She rolled around, looking back at her owner, then repeatedly nuzzled his hand. "Where are my manners, you must be in want of dinner. I will be right back"

In triumph, she snorted. Mercy heard what had occurred, and spoke in her animal language to Pig. They both knew something had to done.

* * *

He was grateful his Pig was not picky. Vegetable peelings and roots, scraps from the royal table, cut grass from the garden, Pig had a varied diet. As usual, Smithy made his way to receive goods for his pet when he was met by a familiar face. "There you are Smithy, you left so quickly"

"Rake, what are you doing down there?"

"I am talking to that flowers, they prefer nighttime stories over compliments"

"Alright, well I am about to retrieve Pigs dinner"

"Here, take these apples, she will enjoy the sweetness"

"Thank you"

"Say, are you alright? I mean, you seem quieter than usual"

"Conversation escapes me and sticks to Jester more often than not"

"Alright, well goodnight"

"Hopefully. Goodnight"

* * *

Sleep was unkind to Smithy, and he woke in a cold sweat. The scenes were horrific, the sounds and smells haunted him even then. Beside him, Pig slept soundly which eased him a little. Never, he promised, would he be like him, to destroy without feeling, to cause trouble for others. Everyone else should have been asleep, and an evening stroll might do him some good.

Crisp and humid, the season spoke with the cricket's song, the fullness of that moon, and the scents of evening blooms. Everyone should have been asleep, but he spotted her in the darkness. Her figure kissed by the moon, walked back and forth on the battlements. It was her turn to do the night watch. He would not disturb her, he should not… but he could not sleep.

"The moon is so bright this evening" Jane whispered to no one.

A chuckle beside her made her flush in embarrassment, and body tense and ready to strike. "The moon is bright every evening, except when the clouds shield her."

Relieved it was not Gunther, she relaxed, but only a little. "I know, I am almost blinded by its beauty. Why are you not sleeping? You have much work to do in that morning so you not?"

He stood at a distance, so that his eyes could not betray him. "Sleep escapes me at the moment."

"It happens to me from time to time, and then I am left laying there, thinking about past embarrassments or mistakes, but tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet. I am comforted by this, and I try a little harder not to mess up."

"I know it can be difficult at times, to deal with the injustices around you, but it is admirable to see your hard work is not in vain. Well done Jane"

"Thank you Smithy"

The scent of cherry blossoms carried by breeze, passed by them. A sense of quiet understanding was there, but neither would speak of it. Call it fear, call it duty, or whatever words are used by those who allowed nations or winds, or walls of some sort to stand before them. It was not the time. When would it ever be?

"I should go," his gentle voice allowed. "it would not look well if Sir Theodore saw you slacking in your duties"

"I am still able to watch, there is no distraction in our conversation."

There were books and ballads which could better describe what he wanted to say, but he was not a hero or a nobleman who spoke with grandness, but a humble blacksmith. "I am not concerned by your ability to do your duty Jane, but of the propriety of our meeting. It would not look well to be seen together under these circumstances."

She looked upon his face and understood. There was no jest or meanness laced in his words, but respect and sincerity. "Oh, perhaps it is best. Goodnight Smithy"

"Goodnight… Jane"

That night he slept a sleep he had not known for a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3: Honest Jealousy

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **This story excites and saddens me. It might be because I usually write and prefer fluff, and I'm disappointed in my ability to write Smithy. I feel as though he's being too moody, and ugh. Someone, anyone, feel free to tell me if my Smithy is too Ooc. And special thanks to Sunrise19, who leaves lovely comments.**

* * *

With clenched fists, Gunther kneeled before the princess to accept the daisy chain. "I proclaim you my eternal protector, who shall serve me even in the shadows, and burn against the light and obey my every command. Now, if you would be so kind, help me upon my pony, so that I may ride upon her and laugh at the Prince of the Wind, who thought himself grand enough to please me."

The Princess at fourteen years old still held an air of playfulness which was especially apparent when Gunther was most unhappy. Jane assumed perhaps her little majesty was not so little anymore. Perhaps, she dared to believe it possible, that Lavinia had fallen in love with him, thinking Gunther like a fairy prince whose soul was divided into two entities, and only her love could reclaim him. Or, it might have been her attempt to keep him distracted. Nevertheless, Jane would remain vigilant about that matter, as well as her mother, who had similar suspicions.

Before her stood dummy, and beside dummy stood the fool. "Now that is classic."

"Her little majesty might be convinced to spare Gunther in place of the man who fell from the moon"

"Are you referring to me?"

"If I was not, then I might as well say I meant Dragon, though I am not so convinced he could pretend as well as you could."

Dragon might have been persuaded if she asked him, but he looked preoccupied at the moment with the castle's latest cow. "He may be a beef brain, but Gunther takes his duty very seriously, and I will be in need of his skills to help me when these recruits are acting particularly stupid"

"Do I have to?"

"Who else will assist me with these young minds? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Fine, but not yet. I am enjoying the view."

"Jester, if you could enjoy the view from somewhere else, it would be helpful."

"Seeing as none of them are more handsome than Dragon, then there is no threat to my happiness."

Again she saw it, she heard it, that tone of voice, that look, the one she had been avoiding for eight years. She was young, a young woman, a young woman of a certain class, and there were many that wanted to trap her in the binding vows of marriage. It scared her, for it had taken years to earn the freedom she had always wanted, and it would take longer for other small freedoms. Not yet, perhaps not him as she once thought it may had been. The years had allowed her time for reflection.

"Jester, this is not the time. I do not find this… Whatever has been going on lately as amusing as you would believe. This competition with other men, as though…."

It was an annoyance, as well as a pain. She cared for Jester, but in the end, his constant attention, his flightiness, his artist personality, it was his gift, but perhaps a curse to their compatibility. No, no one will control her, claim her as though it was destined, or if life had set a plan, striping her of free will. No, no one will do that ever again, not even well meaning friends. Jester did not acknowledge the discomfort, but he played along. "Forgive me my lady Knight, for perhaps the stars in your eyes encourage this wild heart of mine."

She tightened the grip on her wooden sword."We will speak of it later. For now, either face the wrath of my sword or run."

He ran with a smile on his face until he reached the stables. Oh how he wanted to frown at those bright eyed peasants looking upon his Jane. Worse yet, his heart was twisting with an ugliness he thought he put away. Jealousy, it ate away at him, until even his friends seemed like foes. Nearby, the another enemy to his happiness, his friend, was brushing his beloved's horse.

Smithy shook his head, trying to stop his current line of thought. Jane was a living spark, the kind that caused forest fires, whose heat scorched any who were not careful. He knew, it would not be wise to entertain the idea, any idea that involved her. Yet, there he was, admiring the sight of her scolding one of the new recruitments, while brushing the fur of Jane's brown mare. Sensing his anxiety, the horse neighed, pushing her head into his hand, trying to comfort him in its own way. "I will be fine young girl, no need to worry"

Honestly, he would be fine. He had faced greater things, more detrimental, painful important things, this would not claim him. "I will not worry"

"Worry about what?"

The fool was careful to not get so close, or else the animals may betray him.

"Nothing Jester, just the usual things there are to worry."

"Another pig of a problem is it not?"

Turning his head to appreciate the view, Jester sighed, "Jane is looking very pretty today, well everyday she is prettier than the last"

As he suspected, Smithy was not so blind after all. "You have a great view of her, though I am sure horses are your preference."

It may have been a mistake, but for a moment Smithy thought there might have been double meaning in his friend's words. Then again, it was Jester, he had a talent with words. It did not matter, because he did not think himself any greater or lower then his friend, but similar, in a sense. "Animals are the only living things that are honest. So yes, I prefer them above everything else."

The fool's eyes glistened as he watched Jane and Gunther in their usual competition. Gunther had just finished explaining the reason for patience and discipline while finding ways to annoy Jane until she burst with anger. Of course she knew this, so she explained the need to guard your heart, for it was a treacherous thing.

"You still have not told her?" was Smithy's guess.

"What can be said Smithy? If I was like you, then perhaps she would have reason to say yes"

"..."

Smithy raised his eyebrows, for he did not believe this. Jester, in his moment of jealousy of Gunther, had forgotten the jealousy for the blacksmith. However, he remembered it soon enough. If Jester was like Smithy, there was no doubt he would have had the strength to defeat Gunther, not only with sword, but perhaps permanently if he needed to. Yet, his strength lay elsewhere, in his words, already a step above the blacksmith. If he needed to, twisting stories would not hurt either. "You must know it by now, certainly you have heard what the chambermaids have said"

The fool looked away, waiting for the proper response.

"I have not." said the blacksmith.

The fool hoped for better, but he was not finished yet. "Why just the other day, I was passing along, when I heard the laughter of two young maidens, and thought, 'Are not women in another class of their own?' and then your name was mentioned along with two other words, and it was a laughter, a blush, and a tease"

"Are you not going to say?"

There, he was sure he had him now. "They called you handsome, and named you stable prince. There was more, but it was rather delicate, and one teased the other, so I lost my nerve and held onto my hat as I ran the other way"

"Oh, that is all?"

Smithy knew a few fancied him, and dared to think him handsome, but was that it? What of his pain, of his intellect, of his love of nature, of his kindness, did any of those matter?

"Are you not touched a female has set her sights on you?" said Jester.

"It is flattering, but I am not conquest, I am a blacksmith"

"And I am a fool in love, and while I cannot do anything to help myself, I know there must be someway to help you, for I know that you are unhappy. If I can help, do not hesitate to ask. I might even convince the young maiden to make her feelings known to you."

"Thank you Jester, but it is not necessary."

"I must be going, the little majesties will need assistance in their language studies."

Jester would have to take action if his plan are to succeed, and he had an idea where to start.

Without conversation as an excuse, Smithy returned to his duty. He did not mind it, his work kept him busy enough, but every so often he felt the pang of what he might have called loneliness. Horses were honest, people were not. In time, he would learn to be just as honest, but it might be his downfall.

* * *

After the training practice was over, Gunther again brought up dangerous topics, ones she would rather avoid. So she inquired of his horse, or the rising prices of grains. He frowned, but did not relent. She heard him, but she was being stubborn like always. "Jane, you know exactly what I mean to say?"

"Of course, I do, and I also know orchids are wicked expensive, but I do not complain. If you will excuse me, I have other matters to take care of."

"This is not over Jane."

"And another time I will be ready with expense reports from the last harvest."

If she did not find something to do, then she would surely go mad. As though her wishes were heard, Pig walked straight to her with a buckle in her mouth, dropping it before her. She recognized it at once, being the missing buckle from her saddle bag. "Thank you Pig."

How would she fix it if she did not know how to fix it? It was obvious, she had to go to the one person who could. Perhaps, he could keep her distracted, and perhaps she would like it.


	4. Chapter 4: Rational Sarcasm

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **Thank you to everyone for the lovely comments. It's started to get a little difficult, I guess because I want there to be more then just Smithy fighting with himself. I would be happy to hear any suggestions as to how I could improve this story.**

* * *

A storm was approaching, hopefully it would quickly pass. The warm, damp breeze added to his discomfort as sweat dripped from his forehead, into his eyes where it burned. No matter, what comfort could be had in which he deserved? Everything, up to this point he worked for, and like the big things, the little things required effort.

Fortunately enough, this was a day he would not have to spend before his fire, but busy with minor repairs about the castle. Sounds of breathing, gentle sayings, these were the norm. Nothing exciting, as it should be, as it should always be. Steady, gentle caresses from the blond, words any lady would find deserving, these were the privileges of the colts and mares in the king's service.

Pig waddled past Smithy's feet then, her snout searching for edibles the horses dropped. "Have you come to help me clean?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, sniffing around, and found some carrot, and nibbled it, happy with her find. Work and good company, he should have been grateful. With ungloved hands, Smithy soothed and calmed the creatures before him, mostly the brown haired beauty. In his hands, the chestnut mare would attempt great jumps or outrace other horses. Truly, she was a little too much like her owner, and this in itself was encouragement.

If only his talent worked with another beauty, one he could not name. He shut his eyes, allowing his hands to see for him, to comfort in his slow, careful way. The pang struck him when her image flickered in his mind, and the thought of rejection stabbed him. She could not care for him was what he thought and whatever friendliness displayed was friendship. If only people were like animals, who could never hide their feelings, and were direct about their intentions by action or scents.

In between thoughts, a wanted interruption came by. "Smithy," the siren song beckoned, "if you would be so kind as to saddle my horse."

He was sure he did not smell that great, seeing as he had been sweating. What did it matter? He was exactly who he appeared to be, and that was that. Feel nothing he told himself, be calm, say nothing to bring weakness. He stopped mid caress, opening his eyes, facing the other wall."Is that all?" came his monotone.

"No."

"Surprise"

"This buckle, Pig brought it to me, and I believe it belongs to one of my saddlebags."

Pig snorted in acknowledgement, and ran off before a proper scolding could be dared a glance then, removing all traces of warmth, leaving only a monotonous answer."And you want me to fix it?"

"Yes."

From time to time, the blacksmith inspired fear, he could sense the shift in tone and posture from her. Mentally he cursed his father, for teaching him this way of thinking, and started to reason. Tension dropped from his shoulders then, the beginnings of a smile could be seen. Jane was not like the others who used him ill, but a friend he could trust, and he did not want to make things harder for her. Even if it hurt him, he would show mild leniency towards her, for she had done nothing, except widen the hairline cracks. "Well, seeing as I finished my other duties ahead of schedule, it should be done no later than this afternoon."

"Thank you Smithy, that would be champion."

"Now, if I could have the buckle please"

The drumbeats of his heart were deceptive. Just like a spark, she started the conflagration in his bones. If he were sliced open, for sure there would be a puddle where the most important of organs should be. As the brush of fingertips in his open palm occurred, he almost dared to close his hand over those cracked, calloused hands, whose roughness would tell the story of her courage and dedication. Of course, his father taught him better, so he betrayed nothing. "I will work on it as soon as possible."

With all the steps to saddle her horse, he was almost glad he did not face her. No time was wasted, in the effort of this task. The skies were several shades of gray, not so threatening, though a little less inviting than before. Just like the sky, his feelings were ever were a dreadful thing, and the force to look away took more effort than he realized.

Mercy mewed at the redhead, earning a head scratch. Strange, thought the blacksmith, the tawny feline was cautious to mostly everyone. Perhaps she saw something in Jane, something worth knowing and understanding. He bit the flesh inside his cheek, he would not relinquish himself so easily. Why would he need to?

He barely looked at her, as though she were a shadow and the air. Jane hated how he seemed a little distant at times. Perhaps it was true, perhaps animals were his only passion. The horses were never in want, neither were Pig, Mercy, and all the chickens in the hen house. Only they knew the truth, they could sense it, feel it, know it. Perhaps like them, his perception and sensitivity to the world made him different.

Some may call it obsession, or dedication. Then again, she could have said the same about her knighthood. They were similar, but the differences were great. Therefore, there was little to no danger in her getting to know him. "You were not at the morning meal," she attempted at conversation, "yesterday neither."

She took notice, as a friend of course. What weight were behind such words? It would mean nothing, even if it was there, it would continue to mean little to nothing. "I was not hungry."

"By midday you will surely have an appetite."

"Perhaps."

One word answers, how unsatisfactory they were. A trait of his, a fault, one of his many. What reservations were needed among friends?

"Perhaps it will be mutton."

He dared another glance, but decided at the last second to glance at the empty stall beside him. "That would be nice."

Fresh hay lined the horse stalls, their perfume the essence of country life once lived. No one she knew, could have said there were creatures better cared for. "Your hard work shows. I am glad the king has someone he can trust."

He wanted to believe her words, but he was no different from any other as far as skills went. "There are many who could be counted as trustworthy, including you Jane."

"I could never lift a hammer like you can."

This caught his attention, her emerald eyes flared with determined competitiveness. She was baiting him with flattery, a tactic she must have acquired from her lady in waiting training. Being the passive aggressive he was, this was his reply. "I think you could, with a little practice of course."

"You think I can? My mother would have a few things to say to say on the matter."

"You have proven her wrong before, and no doubt she will always have something to say on any matter."

"Perhaps, I could become a part time blacksmith, you seemed to have your work cut out for you."

He shrugged his shoulders, and handed her his hammer. "If you wanted to, how could I deny you the privilege?"

Proudly, she lifted it once, before allowing it to drop away from her feet. "I guess I can lift it."

"Did you think you could not?"

She almost felt annoyed at the sarcasm, but then smiled, because this was his usual behavior. No one she knew, could care the way he cared. No one made sassy retorts endearing. An even sweeter smile joined with her uncontrolled laugh made his heart leap for joy. There was much to be said, so much they should not think to mention; it would soil what peace they had. "If you offered advice on the proper procedure," she softened, "then I would think over your suggestions, and come to a conclusion of my own."

Nothing lasting was behind that voice and smile, he repeatedly thought to himself, and that monotonous voice was back. "Then you know the answer?"

He would not dare call her fickle would he?

"Would I?" her fists balled, "I suppose many would think I would not know."

It was not beyond his notice, and he flashed her that sincere smile of a friend, the one age, nor time could not remove. "If you know, they would not. If they know, you would not. In time you would, if not at the very moment, for hasty decisions are not wise ones. Here you are Jane."

Like that, her anger melted away. Over time it had become a habit to become offended if any mention or related comment were due to her sex. However, how could she forget who was friend or foe? She took the reins from his hands, shocked by a different revelation. It was rare to see his naked hands, which were several shades lighter than his face. The welcomed delight of brushed hands was like the comfort of a hot beverage on a winter day. It was something she could used to given the time, but it was over before it began. "Right, well off I go."

Besides, she only admired him, and she was sure that it meant nothing, but the sincere feelings of a friend. Before she knew it, she mounted her horse, though looked down at her feet. Something felt off, though it was not so alarming as her thoughts were when Smithy started messing with the stirrup leather. "Jane, it will only take a moment."

How beautiful they were, those white, strong, laborious hands. With them, he fixed the problem immediately, her smile a bit sheepish. "Am I tree a that keeps growing?"

"I am afraid so. We could try an ax, though I believe a change of footwear is the main root of the problem. New boots?"

"No."

He would have time to regret that comment later. Using what worked, he forced himself into normalcy. "Perhaps a swing from my hammer might do the job, it works on almost everything else."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "If I were metal, then such things would be simple."

That he would never wish. Without the heat, metal took force to bend, and was cold to the touch. It was only near other temperatures that it took on the qualities of soft or hard, which he thought of himself. Simple, he thought it was, but that was after years of practice. It was fascinating, complex, and could look simple, or become unique, but only in the right conditions, with the proper skills and tools.

When she thought things could not get any worse, such a thing as growth had to occur and make her a little less lady like. She did not care most of the time, but she cared from time to time, and when she did, it was disheartening. No matter, she would soon get used to the idea, and stirrups were adjusted again, until she felt they were to his liking. "I might be gone for most of the day. If anyone asks…"

"Tell them to mind their own business."

"In more or less terms, unless there is reasonable doubt."

"Be careful Jane, I do not like the look of those clouds."

After the morning's events, this really made her mad. "I can take care of myself."

She wished, that one day she would run out of mistakes. This was not the day. Whatever passed over his eyes, she missed. And, if anyone was deserving of her anger, it was not him."Sorry."

"No harm done."

A ride will ease her thoughts, or tire her. Harm was always done, either by her hands or tongue. As long as she was distracted, there would be time to become rational again. Then again, what was rational about her life?

Until she could make sense of a few matters, she would be Jane, though only the one she used to know.


	5. Chapter 5: An Unnecessary War

***I do not own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **I couldn't help but add references from the episode Mismatched. This is mostly about Gunther since I really wanted to include him more in this fic. For those who notice that Jester is more sinister, you are right. I believe that intelligence can make you haughty and stuck up if you allow it to, since he usually thinks he knows more then others. That statement is not true for everyone, so please do not take offense. Anyway, thanks for the lovely comments and for allowing me to write the character Smithy the way I have been. I hope I won't let you guys down. And finally, I like to think of Sir Theodore as a stern, but father /grandfather figure. Please enjoy since getting this far in a fic is usually a miracle for me.**

* * *

No one asked about Jane's whereabouts. With so much to do, Smithy allowed himself to forget the events of the morning. A pair of eyes watched him with much interest, hiding in a corner, hoping she would not be caught. Mary would not allow youth, race, or station to command her. She could not help but think hey stable prince handsome.

Through the eyes of a young maiden, she nearly gasped at the sight of his finely formed chest as she watched him loosen the strings in his shirt a little. If she were back home, her mother would have beat some sense into her, telling her how wicked it was to allow the eyes to wander. Perhaps it was wicked, but having the appearance of a Greek god did not help. When her thoughts were nearly sinful, she ran away, her eyes nearly in tears at the beauty of such sights. Oh, it was a sin for such a person to exist.

In reality, this is what really happened. As was his usual duty, Smithy mucked the stables. The physical exertion combined with the heat made him sweat profusely, and he loosened the strings of his shirt. The scent of horse dung and sweat stung his eyes made them glisten, and he knew he was due for a bath by the smell of his armpits. Poking at his stomach, he groaned in hunger. In all his stubbornness, he had avoided eating, and now he was paying with the gnawing in his belly.

In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a figure, but then again it could have been his thoughts getting the best of him. The thought of laundry came to his mind as he wheeled the dung towards Rakes garden. Oh well, it would all resolve itself once he finished his duty and ate double portion at the midday meal.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, a raven haired Knight contemplated a very distressing matter. How in the world would he ask Jane to court him? How would he court her if it meant leaving her knighthood behind? How could he possibly win her over? The usual methods did not work, she did not seem to understand his compliments, and orchids were out of the question.

Bat bladders, why did she have to be so unlike other girls? However, was that not why he liked her? No, it was more than that. Over the years, she had more than enough proved her worth as a Knight, a comrade, and a friend. He knew she liked flowers, food, and fighting, but how could he combine these into something she would accept from him?

Gunther could not ask his father, and Sir Ivon was crude on such matters, so there was only one person he could ask. When he reached a particular wooden door, he knocked and waited. The creak of wood, slow footsteps, and a throat clearing, made him feel small, like the young squire he used to be. Only with the sight of the aged knight, who had changed little, but gain a few wrinkles and greying hair reminded him that he was no bratty child competing with a girl to see who was more tough. "Sir Theodore, may speak with you?"

He sighed, slightly unsure whether or not this was the right choice. Excusing a chambermaid, the aged knight smiled in knowing. "Come in."

Panic concentrated itself in his stomach, and he hoped he could keep down the meal of swan and black truffles. Was it not possible that talking with Jane's mentor could possibly make things more difficult? Oh well, there was no going back now. "Well… there is… that is to say… ugh.. I am not sur-"

"This is about a girl, yes?"

"What? How di-"

A chuckle escaped him. "I believe this is similar to what happened eight years ago."

Combing his fingers through his hair, Gunther focused his eyes on the dish of dried lavender, and noticed a butterfly had settled itself upon a pile of parchment. The trembling of his hands settled a little, but his stomach was still angry, and ached with every nervous inclination. "I… It is different this time."

With the wave of a hand, he urged him to continue. "Sir, I was hoping you would spend a moment to talk about.. Um.. Females?"

"Not female horses? If so, you may speak with the blacksmith."

"Not female horses Sir Theodore, a girl. Um, a girl of the court, who is a friend of mine. She likes me, I think."

If he knew better, which he did, and knew who this female was, which he mostly likely did, then this would not end well. "You think? Is there reason to believe otherwise?"

"It is hard to be sure, since mostly she insults me."

The warmth of the afternoon made the young knight glow. With special attention, he saw how he fought with himself. Fear had always been the darkness which he thought would be Gunther's downfall, but now, watching him trying with sincerity what was on his mind softened him. Yet, he was still his teacher, and mentor. "Ah, this is a dilemma. In such a case, we may cease this line of thought."

With hardened eyes, Gunther asked. "Why? Do you think it is a waste?"

"Not precisely. If I am correct in my assumptions, then this woman has displayed a sure sign of displeasure."

Deep down Gunther thought he knew better, but it seemed as though history was bound to repeat itself. "Really?" came his disappointment.

"Believe it or not," he sniffed, "I have had a few dealings of my own, a few noteworthy, but sadly amounted to little. I have always taken a woman's scorn seriously, for it is usually a true sign of her affection."

The raven haired youth held tightly to a support beam, a little unsure of what to do with himself. Why did he bother to believe he could change things? Why did he bother to even wake up that morning? If anything ever mattered, it was her, and he would be bothered if he did not even try. Yet, like usual, there was a cloud of disappointment and disillusionment above his head, ready to rain on him.

Sir Theodore felt minor regret for not choosing his wording more carefully, but he would rather not have a scandal in his hands. He continued."Tread carefully, a woman's heart is like a battlefield. If you plan to be successful then come up with a battle plan, think it over, then put it into action. You may or may not succeed, it all depends on how much you take the lead. However, if this is about a certain lady of the court, one who I have specifically taken under my guidance, then I suggest you surrender."

Indifference and defiance sat like a bitter taste on his tongue, and it would not leave him no matter how many times he tried to swallow. "If you believe I am incapable of making her happy then I will just have to prove it otherwise."

Placing his thin hand on his shoulder, Theodore shook his head. "I believe you are capable of great things, but that is separate. Matters of the heart are far more dangerous. There is no use going to war if the battle is already over. If you start a war Sir Gunther, be prepared to face the consequences, for you may lose more than you could possibly think to gain."

Gunther could not stand there any longer, for he feared he would call prey to past weakness and lose his temper. Worse, he might cry like the last time, when he could not make head or tails of his feelings. Coldly, he looked away. "I will excuse myself Sir, before I say something I do not mean."

"That is wise."

Even in the heat of the day, Gunther appeared as though he would shake out of his skin. In an action of sincere affection, the aged knight hugged him. Age might have been making Theodore soft, or perhaps he sincerely wanted to believe him. Either way, he felt pity, terrible, drowning pity, for if there was anyone more deserving, it was him. Gunther shuddered, afraid, confused, and saddened beyond understanding.

Why did it feel so final, even when he was determined not to give up. "I still have to try Sir, I need to try." came the last part in a whisper.

"Then I wish you luck, for you are going to need it."

Fight or flight? Neither, Gunther wanted this. No, he needed this. He was so tired, tired of life sometimes and its disappointments, but he was glad to sometimes feel worthy of it. Perhaps all he needed was comfort, a friend among comrades. Oh how he hated himself and his weaknesses, but he no longer cared.

With trembling arms, Gunther reached up, and embraced him back. A tear or two may or may not have appeared in his gray eyes, but no one would know; it was a secret among comrades and men.


	6. Chapter 6: A Light In The Darkness

***I don't own Jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **I think the Chamberlain is smarter then he appears to be. I mean past the worry, and exasperation, I think he takes the time to notice details nobody else would care to bother with. He's a good guy, and I wish we could have seen part of his back story. If only the show had more seasons. Oh well.**

* * *

By evening, the Chamberlain paced about the yard. Smithy had just finished the repairs on Sir Theodores armor, and noticed Jane's father was more troubled than usual. "Sir are you alright? Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh Smithy, I almost did not see you there. My trouble you ask, it is about Jane. She left on horseback earlier in the day and now it is evening with a storm practically upon us. Truly this is terrible, she should have returned ages ago."

Smithy thought so too. If she had been with Dragon then there would have been no problem, but Dragon was busy courting a cow a few towns over, leaving him only so much time to spend with Jane. During his visits, he either teased her or ate whatever disgusting recipe was unfit for the royal family. Without Dragon around, there was cause for worry. "Shall I send for the knights?"

"Heavens no. They are exhausted from the hunt,and it would not bid well."

The only knight available would have been Gunther, since he took over Sir Theodores post,but the castle could not be left defenseless. "I would not recommend your traveling alone Sir, you may get lost in the darkness."

The Chamberlain examined the blond youth, whose strength from heavy lifting and swinging a hammer gave him the appearance of someone not to be reckoned with. Jane may not appreciate his meddling, but something had to be done. "I am far too old for this kind of matter, and I would rather avoid an argument if it can be helped," he coughed, "which is why I am sending you."

"Sir?"

"You are the last person to have seen my daughter. She would not take well to my…spying."

"Of course Sir."

Like the last time, when he was a bundle of nerves, the blacksmith made himself available like a friend. "I trust you will bring her back safely."

"I will."

There were other things he would later have in store for the blond youth, but this task alone held higher importance. A warmth, a quiet worry, they passed over those fair eyes. It did not pass the worried father's notice of the quiet concern hidden underneath the blacksmiths lashes. Surprisingly enough, this was not so worrying as the roving eyes of the jester, or the cold calculation of the merchant, but he would be cautious, even if only from a distance.

* * *

She had lost track of time.

The afternoon had been mostly agreeable, with its share of berry bushes, and warm breezes. The focus on the road, as well as traveling away cleared her mind for a time, but now as she woke, with the darkness upon her, she felt sillier than ever. Gone are the days when she fled from defiance, here were the days she dealt and fought them face forward, even if one step at a time. The boom of thunder was approaching, and she hoped she could reach the castle without too much trouble.

"Bravery, let us go home."

Her ears flicked this way and that way, then she froze. Jane urged her to move, but she stood firmly grounded. "What is the matter? By now, my father must be worried sick."

Streaks of lightning made it like daytime in the night, and again Bravery stood still. "Come on," she groaned, "this has gone on long enough, we must go if we are to avoid the rain."

What Jane did not know was that her mare was listening, but to someone other then her owner. She would know that voice anywhere, and this encouraged the chestnut creature to trot, and then from trot to full gallop. The voice of her friend, of her dear one, she would follow. Over and over, she heard the name, she heard him calling. If she could answer, if she could speak, it would be of the appreciation which sprouted in its appropriate time.

As though death were on their tails, Jane could not imagine what had triggered the response in her horse, but she was grateful. The power and speed alone were indicators of good breeding, and this she would have to remember to thank Smithy for. "You know better, for you know what is waiting for us."

* * *

Where could she be? Was she hurt? Or worse?

With all the exertion,as well as the yelling, his throat felt raw. His lungs, his mind, his heart worried for her. If he yelled himself hoarse, even mute it would not be enough if he could not find his dear one.

"JANE! JANE WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Light rain was nothing to the storms in his heart. The scent of earth and sky normally refreshed him, but this time they were the reminder of his jealousy. Him, the most mature, level headed of the staff jealous? Yes, he felt it, but figured it was nothing more than the foolishness which accompanied those before the bloom of youth. Once he passed the age of nineteen or twenty those sentiments were already tainting his peace.

It took a week's worth of reasoning to get over the envy and anger felt when Jester was near, even longer when Gunther caused him grief and dare consume her form with those desperate storm colored eyes. If only Smithy did not care, it would make things so much easier. Life was never easy, and it will continue to test him. Gusts as troublesome as children, sprinkles slowly dampening his wavy strands, heavy hearted with self pity, oh how he loathed the fluctuance of youth.

Lightning appeared like cracks in the sky, and he woke up from that darkness which touched him from time to time. All around him, surrounded by the darkness night, and he saw a flicker of her in his mind's eye. Renewed worry strengthened his conviction. He could not fail, there was no excuse, he would find her. The carthorse, Brutus, could easily gallop with as much vigor and spirit as a thoroughbred in his hands; which was impressive even to the blacksmith.

A voice unlike his own came from his throat, and called for his shining lady in the darkness. "JANE! JANE WHERE ARE YOU?!"

With trembling hands on the reins, he urged his emotions to settle, while he urged Brutus to sniff her out. If anything had happened to her, surely he would be driven to madness. "Do not let me lose her."

Thunder claps, he did not fear them, neither did rain or lightning strike such fear, but if she was lost or hurt, he did not dare want to think of such things. "Please Brutus, I am putting my trust in you. She is out there, and we need to find her before the storm does."

* * *

A light in the darkness, or so she thought. Could it be possible anyone was half mad enough to dare venture this far, this late, in such weather? She squinted, pinching her cheek, and the pain as well as the light very much there. Jane thought to ignore it, but the nagging guilt of not helping those in need convinced her otherwise. Again she saw it, the flickers of light.

Whoever was ready to catch their death, was either foe or friend. With a tug to the reins, Bravery stopped, her cry the kind fit for battle. Slowly, but surely, she heard some sounds heading for her direction. The sounds became a voice, the voice belonging to a friend. It was Smithy, his hair flat and dampened by some rain he had encountered. "Smithy? SMITHY!"

Never had words been so endearing, so healing, and treasured as those as his name. Goodness, this woman drove him into half madness already, and he could not help it. "Jane? JANE!"

What he would have given to hold her close, to know he was not hallucinating. Instead, he pinched himself. Her eyes clouded with confusion, searched his face for answers. "What, why," she shivered, "why are you here? What are you doing? Are you a fool?"

He could have been clever, but instead he hung his head. She continued. "You...you are mad, and will catch your death in this weather."

"I…" he swallowed, "I was sent by your father. He was worried by your lateness."

"Why did he not come himself?"

"Because he respects you."

Which was what she wanted, but she could not help but be slightly disappointed. Unlike her mother, her father had been open minded, even if reluctant, and gave her the necessary space.

Smithy reached inside his saddlebag, and found the blanket he had packed. Without asking, he placed it about her shoulders, his face unreadable. They both smelled of horse, though she detected hints of mint in his breath.

Smithy bit his tongue until he tasted blood, for he nearly drew her close, oh how he wished he could, but he did not. However, in his thoughts he already had. In reality, he was careful, for she could kill him if she felt threatened, and was aware of the deathly blows she could administer. The warmth of bodies, of combined breath, of hearts, there was honesty in the wind that made her hair flutter and the reluctance in the hands that placed the blanket on her shoulders. Smithy cursed silently to himself, and hardened his heart, enough to continue. "Your father respects you too much to dare upset you, so he sent me instead. He thought yo-"

"Would think he was spying? I already knew, and it warms my heart that he cares."

She pulled the wool blanket closer. "His job is so stressful, yet he takes the time out to care for my needs. I allow him at least that much to pretend I do not notice."

Lightning streaked the sky with its warnings. "I think we should be going. The rain has stopped, but it will not hold off for long."

She lead the way, and he allowed it. Their ride back was silent except for the thunder, but the sense of gloom still hung between them.


	7. Chapter 7: Appreciative Hands

***I do not own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **I hope this chapter will suit you better** **SunRise19. We all have our moments when we feel our feelings are a waste. I just hope for Smithy that isn't the case. To be honest, I'm not sure how this is going to end. I do however plan to make it a good ending, though I can't promise anything. Hope things will get a little easier, but I think this is only a halfway point. Oh well, never thought I'd get this far.**

* * *

An hour or so later, they were met by the Chamberlain at the castle gates, "Thank goodness," with a nod of thanks towards the blond youth, "Smithy was worried sick."

Jane knew the truth of course, and dismounted her horse. After hugging her father, she hugged the blond who also dismounted. If her father were not there, smiling in appreciation, Smithy was sure he would have made his feelings obvious no matter the consequence. All her kindness, and sweetness flowed through that warmth. "Thank you Smithy." came the muffled voice.

It was over before it began, and she ran off in search of dry clothing. Smithy took both horses, thanking them, and prizing them with carrots and apples for their hard work. Pig came snorting, and Mercy pounced at this boots, both were welcomed sights. Even though he cared for them as though they were kin, there was still the longing. The layers were unraveling, and feelings he thought he would not allow himself to feel came back with a vengeance. He wanted comfort, for he was like anyone else who yearned for companionship.

The shifts of moods made the tawny feeling uncomfortable, but she did not run. Around his legs she rubbed her small face, purring from the light touch of his fingertips. He took to sitting on a stool, where the feline decided to steal the space on his lap. She pawed at one of his buckles, and the mood lightened at the playfulness.

* * *

Jane wondered why he wanted her to follow. Tired from the long hours of riding, dirty with the sweat and dust, all she really wanted was to go to bed. They walked down several halls, until they reached the servants keep. In a storage room, the Chamberlain dug around in one of the clothing chests. He muttered to himself until he found what would seem sufficient enough. "It may be a little large, but these should fit."

"Father, what do you need with these?"

"The lad only has his work clothes and what he sleeps in. I want you to give these to him."

"You mean Smithy?"

Sensing the confusion, he smiled. "He works hard, and it would be best to treat him well. I believe his services are worth more than an offering of clean clothes, but for now it is better than nothing."

"Does mother know?"

"If she knew what you had been up to, then I am sure you would have received an hour long scolding and a three hour bath."

"Is it not the other way around?"

"Perhaps, but let us keep silent on the matter."

"Alright."

"I had Mary prepare a bath for you. Once you are dressed, go and give these to him."

Before he could leave, she hugged him once more. "Thank you father, I know I am more trouble then I am worth, but I am grateful."

"Daughter, you cannot find treasure without its risks. Trouble? You are a rough gem, and are worth more than all the treasures of the Earth. No glory, title, death, or life can change the fact you are mine."

Jane did not belong to anyone, but she knew what her father meant. She took gift bundle, and welcome the idea of a bath without the scolding.

* * *

His eyes had seen. After the nap he had taken, he thought to visit the kitchen for a much needed meal. However, he saw how Jane's father greeted the blacksmith. Oh yes, he saw how Jane embraced the blond so easily. It should have been him, it should have all been his.

If Jester knew, he would have even faced Dragon's wrath to find his fair beanstalk. Life danced in her eyes, the chamberlain nodded to himself, and the blacksmith had the gall to appear sheepish. His clean nails stained from the blood in his palms, bitterness he allowed to blacken even the fondness of friendship. The opportune time will show itself he thought, and when it came, they would not know.

* * *

The forge was swept clean, the scraps of food Pig ate, and small offerings of sparrow were left near his feet. The evening would not be so dark, or as lonesome and dangerous as it appeared. The storm had passed, and now he could make out the position of the stars.

"Smithy?"

He rose from the stool he was resting on, the smell of roses he assumed was from her. Jane now in dry clothes, held a bundle in her hands. "Resting are you?"

"Is there something I can do for you Jane?"

"No, I came to tell you that my father is happy, which is rare, so I thank you."

He scratched his neck. "Jane, you do not hav-"

Maggots he was stubborn. "Even if it was an order," she softened. "I thank you."

"No Jane, I am sure Gunther could have done better, his horse is faster."

Champion, the raven colored thoroughbred was a sight to behold. His sleek coat, the careful trim of his mane and tail, the bulge of muscle, he truly was a magnificent specimen. Bought as a gift for his knighthood, Gunther took pride riding him through town. However, when one tried to touch Champion, he would back away. Only Gunther or Smithy could go near him, otherwise he was a tempestuous creature.

As heroic as it would have appeared, there would have been little to know delight in it. Smithy was not the kind to do things just out of duty, but out of sacrifice and patience as well. As the girl of action she had always been, she took his naked, work hardened hand. "Maggots Smithy." she whispered. He let his hand hang there limp in her hand, he would not act upon anything, he knew he should not. She scrunched her face, sincerity appeared around those warm, feminine eyes, and her rare sweetness, they were searching. "Can you not accept my appreciation?"

"I meant what I said Jane, I did nothing special."

Still, his hand sat there, no movement or encouragement in his part. To make sure there was weight to her words, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "What you said may be true, but you found me. Thank you," she smiled, "the both of you."

"I am sure Brutus will appreciate it."

The carthorse's ears perked up, aware he was being spoken of. "I did not think Brutus capable of such heroism."

His ears fell, but then perked at the sight of a carrot. "He was bred to be strong, so no doubt there is some good blood in him."

Feeding him a piece of apple, Jane giggled. "In your hands, he is manageable, but for me he is stubborn. The other day, he refused to move because he found a patch of grass off the side of the road, and I had to sit there until he was done eating."

"How can you work on an empty stomach?"

"There is a thought. Now that I think about it, I might go to the kitchen to find something to eat. What was served at the midday meal?"

"Mutton."

"And for dinner?"

"Beef."

"Ssh, if Dragon hears that, he may turn you into charcoal."

Looking around, he felt it was safe enough to continue. "So if I am burned, who will tend the forge?"

"I would."

With a roll of the eyes, he smirked. "I am sure you could," he chuckled softly, "with a little training that is"

"Hey!"

All the horses reacted, alert and ready. "Hay is for horses Jane."

"Are you jesting?"

The spark of competition was there again. "Am I?" he teased.

He was teasing her. Unlike Gunther who teased with the intention to hurt, Smithy teased goodnaturedly, and brotherly. Why, it almost seemed like he was affectionately teasing. Jane could not help but smile. "You are."

"I cannot say I am any good at it, but the horses seem to think so."

"Oh, and what do they tell you?"

"I do not speak horse as everyone would like to believe. I can tell by their movement and behavior what they are possibly thinking."

"Alright, then how would they know I like them?"

"You have to show them Jane, allow them to read your emotions, for they know better then we do in these sort of matters."

"Can I not just tell them?"

"You could since they understand the tones of voice as well."

With a bow, she flashed them her biggest, brightest smile. "I like you all, and I am honored to work alongside you as we fulfill our daily duty."

This time he broke out in full laughter. Unrestrained, hearty, boyish laughter, which made her heart beat a little faster. "Well said Jane." he managed to say once he calmed down.

The musk of night surrounded them, an owl cried somewhere in the distance. He tried to push embarrassment aside, thinking of how much he had dropped his guard, but the attention, as well as to the amount of conversation made him feel hopeful.

"The moon is big tonight." she sighed.

"Like a light in the darkness."

"When I was younger," which was not so long ago she thought, "I believed the moon was following me, but then my father proved by the direction of that stars how wrong I was."

"Your father is an intelligent man, you are lucky to have him."

"I know, but I wish he did not worry so much."

"Think of it this way Jane, if he did not care, then he would not worry at all."

Giving his hand another squeeze, she sighed. "I guess so."

He cleared his throat, and looked at his hand in her grasp. Had she not noticed how firmly she held on to him? Or for how long?

"It is getting late Jane you should not stay long."

"What do you mean?"

"It would not look well."

"Because what?"

It was not possible to be this ignorant was it? Even if it was endearing, the trouble it would cause if word got around; he did not want to think about it. "We are no longer children Jane, and people will talk if they get the wrong impression."

Yes, it was possible to be so ignorant. Jane found no problem, in fact she was quite comfortable. What could Smithy worry about if nothing wrong was being done. He saw she still showed no intention in letting go. With a sigh, he continued. "You must know Jane, clasped hands are for sweethearts."

She knew, but his comment did not deter her. "It only seemed natural, so I got carried away."

Surprised he was, disappointed he was not. In fact, he was glad, and thought it seemed only natural as well. If any trouble arose, he planned to take full blame, even making a whole story of seduction up if the occasion called for it. Blame her he would not, for it he was to blame. He allowed himself to feel, to dream, and care, and therefore, he would protect her, even if she did not need saving.

"As long as you are aware Jane."

"But before I go, there are a few things I care to say. About tending your forge, I did mean it. If you would be willing to teach me, then I would be glad to learn."

"I believe you have to ask the king for such permission Jane. If he finds no objections, then it would be my pleasure."

She looked down at their clasped hands. "I should probably let go now."

"I would think so."

Something that had always bothered her was his kindness. Even if she took advantage of this, he would say nothing. Like now, but her own selfishness she did what she wanted. "Does it bother you?"

In so many ways yes, but not in the way she had meant. It was so like Jane to ask for more than he could give, but he was willing, and it really was a pleasure. "I think you should do whatever feels right for you." he patted her head and smiled defeatedly.

Lifting up their hands, his smile became sheepish. "However, it would not be wise to do this in the future."

She never thought of him like a brother. Those eyes, surrounded by sincerity, quiet humor,and knowing, held her focus, locking them in their understanding. There was only two years difference in age, but his mature disposition made her feel safe, with every ounce of warmth of a wood fire. His fair waves were starting to dry, and she still held that bundle of clothing. "Smithy?" She asked, but did but continue further.

Her words were lost in the blooms of color, with its waves of blue, the window of his soul, the color of the calm before the storm. Straightforwardly they looked straight through her, all around her the world was fading. Angry butterflies in her tummy, confusion, distress, they distracted her. Any moment she felt as though she would be swept away, and she did not know how to stop it. She did not know whether she wanted it to.

Now he was starting to worry. Had he been too forward? "Jane?" he called softly.

How pleasant those words rung in her eyes, his inflection she could never tire of. His face scrunched up in confusion, the same it had as the boy of her youth, however the rest had caught up with adulthood long ago. The square of his jaw, the scar above his right brow, those eyes which spoke to her, she liked them all except for the small mole above his left ear; that she did not care for. Her eyes widened at this revelation then. Jane found him attractive, and that seemed okay.

He called her name again, but she said nothing. Slowly, but gently he willed his hand to squeeze back, this made her shudder. "I appreciate you Jane."

Pig was proud of him at the moment. Scent glands or not, there was more in the air then the scent of horse or burning fire.

* * *

After Mary had heard the story, she could not believe it. She dare not ask, but thought to see for herself. In her usual hiding place, she saw how forward the redhead was. How dare she take advantage of his innocence. Her stable prince even explained the seriousness of the matter, but saw no guilt in that she knight's posture.

Unlike some of the other servants who thought little of the chasteness of marriage, she held strong to her childhood teachings, she dreamt of the day of her marriage. For the past two years, she had gotten to know him through the accounts of others. What made her even more convinced of his goodness was his attitude toward the unfortunate ones, the animals deemed unworthy of living. In secret he treated the sick, starved, or neglected creatures, those others condemned to death. She admired him, and was not about to allow someone to take what was hers.

Mary was confused by his reactions to Jane, and for good reason. Most men took every opportunity which arose, but he seemed worried, even disgusted. Was that correct? No, not disgusted, but a word she could not think of. When she had all she could bear, she ran, down the steps and through the servants hallway, until she was a good ways away from anyone.

* * *

Why did it sound so serious? Jane wished she knew. Smithy sighed, waiting for her to answer. Would she understand what he meant? Possibly not, but he had to say something, anything to lighten the load he carried. Was there something she was waiting for? "Say something Jane."

The pang of guilt came to her then, and the sense of betrayal strong. What would Jester think if he saw her? What would Gunther do? They would so something disheartening, something possibly horrible.

No, she was a Knight, above emotion, trained in self control, and she refused to be carried away. At once, she became rational again and removed her hand from his. For a moment, as kindly, as sweet, and glorious, she thought there were the flickers of comfort, as natural and necessary as breath. Yet, it was dangerous in another depth, light, and perception, all of which she was unprepared for. She hoped, she would stop being silly, and grow up. "These clothes here are for you to change into. They are old, but clean, and I hope it will be enough."

He moved away to grab for the clothes, away from his chances of the only warmth he cared for. "It will be fine, thank you Jane."

"Smithy, about what you said…I am sorry if I caused any trouble. Also, I appreciate you too, I really do. So, goodnight."

With his back facing her, she could not see him smiling. "Goodnight Jane."

Pig and Mercy nodded to one another, and carried on. They were sure he was not a lost cause. Change was happening, whether he liked it or not, and there were still many steps left in their plan. However, they would bide their time. Perhaps they could help nature move things along, but only subtly. Mercy would bet her dinner on it; which of course she would not since cats have no use for bets, but she hoped as much as a cat could hope that her master could find happiness.

* * *

Maggots! What was she doing? Smithy was not like Jester who she knew so well. How could she forget that such things as holding hands carried consequences? Neither was he like Gunther, who had not lightened on his teasing. It was simply a trick of the moonlight, or of the stress she was under. Whether she knew it or not, comfort was lending a hand, generously, patiently waiting for her to let go.

As wonderful, as lovely, as kindly such thoughts were, they were dangerous, even deadly to her goals. If she wished to continue, then abandoning those thoughts would be best. There was nothing to his actions she convinced herself.

However, those who spy saw differently.

* * *

No time was wasted as he ran to his living quarters. There he was free to feel the rush of blood in his face, and the sense of clarity in the world. Laughter bubbled in his throat, and he reached down for Pig, kissing her upon that head. He could not convince the muscles in his face not to shape his lips into the curves of a smile. Jane appreciated him, she really appreciated him, and he appreciated her.

It was simple, and obvious, and he would welcome this alien feeling. She was the light in the harsh, biting cold, and the shelter from sweltering heat. Smithy needed her, even if she could exist without him. She was the spark he needed for the flame, and the flame he needed, was to shape metal.


	8. Chapter 8: Rain

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **Since animals can also remember what hardships they have gone through. Yes, this is about Pig.**

* * *

Rain, the tears of the sky. It fell upon the earth, and was absorbed greedily until even the earth was full. No one thought much of it except for the gilt. Her owner did not know, but she sometimes could not sleep through such nights, when the air, water, and earth painted those images she thought she had forgotten. That man, the one she hated to think her owners kin, he brought death and suffering on a night as similar as this one.

* * *

The barrel of cider he discovered was empty, but he had not filled his monstrous appetite. Many of her brethren had been slaughtered to fill his plate, for their soft meat. Others destroyed so there would be less mouths to feed. Why, why had it turned out this way? Why did he poison himself and become a monster when normally he was a stern, but fair master?

The small master covered her eyes, and whispered many promises and comforting words. Still, their screams of mercy deafened the farther she was carried away, but they rung. From a litter of fifteen, only she lived because she was hidden until the effects of the cider wore off.

* * *

Would she ever be as deserving? Would she ever prove her life was worth more than theirs? She did not know. However, as she settled herself in the pile of ripped linen and fresh hay, she glanced upon his sleeping form. The little master, her owner was not so little anymore, but unlike others, his heart remained as loyal and true as ever. Under his hand she knew she was safe.

She thought of many things, pleasing, and fearful. One day she would have to share him, and it was a fact Smithy never belonged to her, but she was his. Even if the world around them continued to change, she trusted he would remain the same. Pig would repay the kindness given, because he was deserving, and she loved him more than she ever loved anything. Focusing on the sounds of breathing, she soon found even she might sleep on such a night.


	9. Chapter 9: Reflection and Preparation

***I don't own jane and the Dragon or its characters**

 **Despite the lovely reviews, I'm still not sure if the multiple story lines are working. I do however love to write about everyone since they all need their five minutes of fame. Another thing, I think some people don't change that much while others change a lot. I hope I do these characters some justice, and write them properly. This chapter is kind of about everyone else, but that's okay every now and again. Hope you like it!**

* * *

For a company of ladies, the assortment of dishes would have to be classy and elegant, as well as sweet and decadent as was fitting their class. Pepper stayed up half the night, busy with cooking and preparations. If it were so simple, as cooked meats, gravies, and stews, the stress would not be so bad. However, deserts were delicate, as well as fickle, and stubborn. Once everything had been finished, she slept for a few hours before being woken up again for the morning meal time service.

The worshipful eyes of her beloved husband traced her form, and a dry, calloused hand he lent in assistance. Even in half sleep, she had the sense to admire the strength of his tanned arms, and those hands which gripped hers so firmly, yet gently; they were all the more reason to love him. Every freckle, every scar, and all of him, she loved it all. He led her to sit at the empty table, where a platter of porridge, boiled eggs and fresh juice sat, ready to be consumed. At the long wooden table, closest to the wall was Smithy, who took the liberty to chop up all the vegetables for the midday meal.

"You two did not have to do this. I could have managed."

The gardener bent down on his knees, a blush ever so present. "Pepper, every day I wonder how I was so fortunate to have you as my wife."

"Oh Rake."

"I could only hope to deserve you."

Those pale hands, which had seen many a meal, burnt, scarred, and raw around the cuticles cupped his young, boyish looking face. "Rake, you are the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Are you sure? You did seem enthusiastic about the new shipment of spices."

"Of course, have I ever lied to you?"

"Not that I can think of."

Looking back towards the blacksmith with a handful of chopped potatoes, she smiled. "You two are going to spoil me."

"Do not look at me, it was all your husband's idea."

"Oh Rake, you are sweeter than honey."

After washing the cut up potatoes, Smithy felt his services were no longer required. Also, the cook and the gardener could be a little affectionate if they were not kept in line. "I will just be going now."

Smithy left before the really affectionate talk could begin.

They did not notice the blacksmith slip away, but only each other until the crackle of fire brought her attention to the soup the boys started for her. "Vegetable soup? I usually reserve that for dinner."

"I know, but the king looks a little under the weather. Feel free to add any meat you care to, though I think vegetables will suffice."

As thoughtful as ever, as delightful, and careful, as doting, and sweet. Pepper embraced her husband comfortably despite the heat the cooking brought. "Rake, will you ever stop spoiling me?" she whispered.

"I do not know. Will I?"

* * *

Out of the tower came out the redhead of his affections. On her way to meet with the dressmaker he figured, but only after a bath. His eyes followed her form, until she disappeared around a corner. Soon enough they would be together, laughing, eating, enjoying the perfect weather. No other man would be there, meaning he only had to share her with those close minded females the Queen cared to cavort with.

Soon, Jester would have her undivided attention. Soon, she would belong to him.

In the bathing chamber, another bath was waiting for her. She decided not to fuss, and got on with it. This was for the greater good she told herself, and because it was for a very important task she would obey. Happily the water was not scalding hot, but pleasantly warm, scented with herbs to refresh and cool. In her hair, she used the oils which had been set out for her use.

Later in the day she would be expected to be courtly and civil. And while all the proper ladies thought of clothes and fashion, she would think of all the interesting ways to hide weapons upon her person. She frowned when she thought of how Jester will stare at her while he thought she was not looking. Even if she had a duty, she was not anyone's ornament. The ladies would find something to criticize her on as always, but she would have to behave because she respected the Queen.

Her mother would appreciate all the effort, that she was sure of. If not for the special plans, she would have been miles away, with Dragon and a mouth full of berries. After the bath, she combed her hair, and left to see the dressmaker. For a few weeks now, she had to attend weekly fittings for the gowns designed by the Queen for Jane to wear. Used to the formality, she attended, only when no one would notice her absence.

Dancing, of all things was not what Gunther planned to do that morning. Lavinia had spotted him from a window, and called him over. The Princess complained she was in need of amusement, and ordered him to help with her dancing lesson. The teacher found this amusing, and thought it was an excellent way to annoy his rival. Gunther cursed silently, and began the line dancing which was most common.

"You are an excellent dancer, almost as good as Jester I dare say."

"Is talking a rule while dancing?"

"No, but these sort of dances take a while, and it does seem better to talk then to think about how much you despise the person across the room, or the amount of couples."

With a roll of the eyes, he tried to think of something which would be appropriate enough to mention. "Your majesty, as stimulating as your company can be," he coughed, "why choose me when you have a perfectly capable fool over there to dance with?"

"That is easy, I think you need a friend."

At this Gunther stopped dancing. "I have friends."

"I do not mean your horse Sir Gunther. Oh, you can be so droll sometimes. I meant someone you can talk to, to cheer you up when you are sad, someone to be cross at."

"Believe me Princess, there are many I am cross with."

One of them being the princess, but he dare not mention it. She searched his face, looking for something she could use, but she was not as good at this as Jane was. No matter, she had her own methods. "Then can you be cross with me?"

Nevermind, she said it for him. "I already am."

"Good, then we are almost friends."

They began their dance, this time doing a folk dance, but Gunther was not so familiar with its steps. "Watch your steps Gunther, you would not want any toes crushed." commented Jester.

"I know how to dance well enough without anyone telling me otherwise."

From his stool, Jester saw what he needed to know. Lavinia, bright-eyed, and expressive took on attractive qualities he recognized came from his lady Knight. If he played his cards right, then perhaps she would do all that work for him. Busy with their play, Jester found that for once he was grateful Gunther revealed this weakness in the princess, and how she revealed a weakness in him. In time, this could be an interesting development.

The Princess near the border of adulthood started to show signs of womanhood, her hair long and a sandy blonde, her eyes large with innocence, her lips just like her mother's; she was going to be a great beauty. Perhaps she would never be the most beautiful since she had her father's ears and skin, but she had enough of her mother's characteristics, so she was going to be fine. The trouble with being fourteen is that your eyes do not listen as they should, or your heart does not stay quiet. Near Gunther, she felt a sense of adventure and excitement, as well as a delight in making him smile or laugh. To wish more, it would be forbidden, but she could still delight in their innocent entertainment. "I like dancing, so, so much. Do you like dancing?"

To this, Gunther softened. "For my little majesty, it is always a pleasure."

There he went again, being all handsome and honorable. "If only you could be a gentleman all the time Gunther," though it would be best if he was not, "then it would make things easier."

Jester could not keep quiet at this, for his rival was gaining approval. "If you were to look for the meaning of gentle, I am sure his face would not be there, but he is a man, I think."

Gunther remembered a similar joke he had told in the past, but at least that was funny. Or at least he thought it was. "Watch your mouth fool."

If it were not for the presence of her little majesty, Jester would have said a dozen more cleverer things, which might or might not be appropriate in proper company. Mistaking their malice for competition, she took them by the arms and cheered. "See? You two must be friends, for you are cross at him. If you hated him, then you would not care."

Gunther pulled away. "For your information Princess, I am a gentleman all the time."

She crossed her arms. "No you are not, because if you were you would have complimented me on my dress or on my beautiful hair."

As a child he would not have cared, but as a young woman, it was a little awkward. What could be said that did not lead to consequence?

"Your dress is…. Purple?"

"Now you are just saying that because I pointed it out."

"I said that because you wanted me to."

With crossed arms, she pouted. "You are not that sincere are you?"

This made him think of all his past interactions with his fellow Knight. If he were a different man, with a different family and circumstance, he could have been the kind of guy that could express himself more honestly. What Lavinia said, he could agree to. "No, I am not."

"It is never too late. For now, I accept your compliment, it was adequate enough. However, think of something better to say next time."

For him, were there second chances? If he was given one, would he take it?

"I will be sure to do that."

"Come now, we must finish this one dance then you are excused."

Perhaps, he could find a friend in her little majesty, but only if it stayed one sided.

* * *

After a while the dressmaker was fed up with the girls fidgeting, but it could not be helped. Standing for two hours, as still as one could be could bother anyone. The dressmaker was full figured women, dressed well, yet humbly, smelled of cloves and Cinnamon, and was mostly patient. In her hands simple fabrics were transformed into articles of clothing. Working for the queen had expanded her business clientele, and such tasks as this one were necessary. However, it did not mean she had to enjoy unwanted comments, only bear them. "I believe the sleeve should be a little longer." commented the lady in waiting.

For the last hour it had been comments of where to lengthen, where to shorten, and to take in. A few years ago, Jane had figured out that if she allowed her mother to talk and express her opinion without interruption, then she was more satisfied, even if things did not turn out the way she liked it. "To the ankle now, we must be modest."

While Jane stood there, trying not to think of herself as a pin cushion, she thought of the advantages of such a gown. With the large sleeves she could hide a dagger or two, perhaps a knife could be strapped to her thigh. Jane smiled at this, for her mother did not know of the possible advantages. Of course, young ladies who thought of weapons were considered barbaric, so these thoughts remained exclusively her own.

The thought of how it would shock her mother made it an even more pleasant thought. Once the measurements were done, Jane left to sadly put on a different gown. The queen and her ladies were all to wear blue. Because of the color of her hair, she wore a head covering which acted like a disguise, giving her the appearance of a meek woman. The shade of blue matched Jesters exactly, and she was sure they would blend in nicely.

Outside, it was cool, pleasant, and bright. No doubt it was set to be a pleasant afternoon. The food packed for the outing would be the rare treats which were only available four times a year. Among the ladies she would have to sit properly, expected to take part in frivolous discussions. Jester will be asked to tell them the most romantic, but shallow love stories for them to cry over.

It would not be champion.

The dress with its embroidered neck, arms, and hem, she was nearly unrecognizable. Her gown ended at the ankle, and it was not worst thing in the world she concluded. Like always, Gunther will have nothing to say, Jester and the females will be all compliments, and she would be all eye rolls. With sarcasm, a dagger, and cleverness on her side, she left her tower.

However, she decided this was not a day to pass by the forge, but to take the long way instead.

* * *

At the midday meal fish and roasted vegetables were served upon a humble platter. Everyone but the two most lively of them were missing. Strange, thought Smithy, he did not see Jester or Jane all morning. For Jane it was normal, but Jester? He would eat as much as he could get.

Without the jokes of the jester or lively expressions of the she knight, the cook and the gardener talked of endearments and vegetables till they settled for just endearments. They ate their fill, and went back to work. It was Smithy's turn to help Pepper to clean up that afternoon, and in a large bucket, he sat down to wash the dishes, thinking of the many tasks he would have to do once the time came.

He saw his reflection in the water, and wondered if the face he saw was what others saw. Would she find him pleasing to look at? He must have looked somewhat appealing if ladies bothered to stare at him. In as casual a manner as he could muster, Smithy asked Pepper if she knew where Jane was. She had told him about the outing, and he left the kitchen as soon as possible.

In his forge he worked, and focused on the job at hand instead of his problems. It was set to be a fine day until he spotted them together. They were leaving to the Queens picnic. As disciplined as he was, he still felt, and the feeling was mostly the problem. It bothered him, but he trusted Jane, so he tried to not focus on it.

When, however, Jester took up Jane's arm in his, Smithy moved away from the forge, to another task.

That afternoon, Smithy thought to see Theodore, and ask if he could have the rest of the afternoon off. Sir Theodore, despite his advanced age was still as sharp as ever. When Sir Theodore saw him, a glance over was all he needed. "Trouble, concerning a girl."

Smithy wondered if there was cause for concern. The aged knight was no fool, and possible watched when no one was looking. If he had seen them together in the stables or saw them on the battlements, then he would know the truth. Still, it was best not to get too excited. "Trouble befalls everyone Sir." was his cool reply.

"Very well then. What may I do for you blacksmith?"

"I wish to take leave for the day"

"Any particular reason?"

Many reasons, though most he did not care to mention. "I fare better with a little rest. Very soon, there will be little time to loiter with all the preparations."

"Your request I will grant, but on one condition."

* * *

Half an hour of so later, he felt invigorated and refreshed.

The fresh air did the both of them well. The wood, with its birds flying and singing about, insects which mostly kept to themselves, and the family of trees as old as time itself. Nothing could disturb their peace. Pig sniffed around as was her habit, and dug up truffles which Smithy collected in a sack for Pepper. He found Sir Theodores request of truffles an easy one. Pretty soon they would have more than enough to satisfy not only a knights appetite, but perhaps the kings as well.

When he found a spot which seemed suitable for rest, he picked up a piece of wood and began to carve it. Sometimes, even at rest a man had to keep himself busy. At first he thought to carve out a miniature pig, but then he found he had cut away too much until he was left with an unusable piece. When he tired of carving, he laid on his back, staring at the clouds which moved at their own pace. The rustling of trees soothed his troubled, and weary soul.

If he were to close his eyes, then he would surely fall asleep. It was strange not to have the weight of his uniform, but instead the lightness of the tunic Sir Theodore had given him. With the warmth of the sun, and in the coolness of the shade, he did eventually fall asleep.


	10. Chapter 10: The Queens Picnic

***I don't own Jane and the Dragon or its characters**

 **Funny enough, I thought this was going to be the halfway point, but now I'm seriously doubting it. Oh well, as long as my muse humors me. I think the queen is a good character, but in the episode "A Thing of Beauty" she did seem to care a little too much about a painting she probably sat hours to model for. I know, its just like when a bad photo is taken of us, but I think for such a young woman to worry so much, would make things worse.**

 **If there is anything you'd like like to see or for me to include, feel free to leave the details in the comment. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

They had traveled at least half of an hour away from the castle, through the gentle wood, until they found an open field with enough trees and shrubs to provide shade. The Queens picnic was nothing more than a ladies tea party, full of little cakes and tarts, cookies, and fruits, as well as boiled eggs, cheese, wine, and cider. They drank from cups of silver, while the queen drank from a cup of gold. On small embroidered rugs each lady sat, the Queen of course sat on the finest, which glimmered from the threads of gold and silver upon a fabric of purple. Their horses, stood a little away, eating from the grass, not caring which of them was the finest, though of course it was the queen's horse.

Their rugs were arranged in a circle, each a few meters away from each other, except for Jane who sat the closest to her majesty. Unbeknownst to the others, Jane was the Queen's guard, which they all thought was her preferred servant. Once she allowed herself to relax and not think so negatively, Jane ate, and spoke only when spoken to, watching, and observing the others. The ladies, with powdered faces, upturned noses, and mouths flippant, Jane found little pleasure in their company. All of them, except for the Queen and Lady Silvia were full of notions of what should and should not be, and the she knight more than once bit her tongue to prevent an outburst.

None of them cared or took much notice of the redhead, except for Lady Silvia, who found her society very pleasant. Born into a family of merchants, Silvia Silver sold trinkets of silver, which the Queen delighted in. It was not long until she had gained favor in her majesty's eyes for her modesty and manners. The very cups the ladies drank from were from the artisan cousins of hers, and this delighted her, but not to the point of egotism and pride. Jane thought, that despite the woman's age, and delicate appearance, her heart must have been large and very fat to bestow such kindness upon all the other not so pleasant company.

* * *

Pig decided it was best not to disturb her human, but to explore on her own. Besides, she knew where he was, and could return right away.

The scents of the forest were fascinating, delectable, pungent, earthy, musty, and strong. Every so often she could detect the scent of boar, and avoided such areas. It would not do to become a mother and neglect her beloved master. Not so far away, she smelled familiarity. From a distance, she squinted her dark eyes, and saw them all.

Why, it was the other humans from the castle, and a few others she could not recognize. Among them was the one human, the beloved of her master. If he knew, would he be pleased? Perhaps he already knew. However, something was not right.

The pheromones in the air were a mess of stink. It was hard to say where it all ended and began, but moving her snout around, she was sure none of it came from the redhead. The male among them, jumped, screamed, and fell to the ground in a grandiose manner. He was the storyteller and the music maker. Sometimes he made pretty noise, and other times he was just the cause of noise.

As colorful, and fascinating humans were, she did not always enjoy their company. Most of them were dishonest and cruel, with tempers that flared and noisy mouths. Not all of them were so noisy, or dishonest, this much she knew. The dominant female of the group, with her long, light colored head fur, was mostly quiet, and gentle to her fellow beasts and herself. The redhead, who could also be counted as a dominant female, treated all beasts with sincerity, and perhaps cared for them better than humans.

Why, the she knight cared for the biggest beast of them all. It was no wonder her master was taken by her. Pig would have liked to taste what they were eating, or listen to some of the pretty noise, but she should return to his side. If the others saw her, they would disturb the peace that was long overdue. However, she allowed herself to be seen by one, and this was enough before she ran away.

* * *

When their hearts were giddy from the cider and wine, Jester sang heart wrenching ballads, then enlightened them with tales with a moral. When they grew weary of silly songs and jokes, he told them a long and tragic story of lies, deceit, and lost affections. They all wept, except for Jane who saw nothing romantic, but stupidity. Why would a woman throw herself at a man when he did not want her? And why would he want her after she had been cruel and vicious?

Jester had hoped to seek some approval, but her hidden displeasure was enough. No matter, with another song, or dance, or poem, she will see his versatility, she had to. She had to.

* * *

The breeze felt wonderful, there was so much sky, earth, and green. Thankful for her training, Jane skilfully tracked Pigs footprints. Some paths were small, but it was not long before she found a small clearing. Amongst the rocks and shrubs, lay a man, that man being Smithy. Little by little, she stepped closer.

His fair hair appeared like gold, reticence framed his face. His tunic, very fine indeed, even if a little old-fashioned. The years had been good to him, they made his face sharper, his words smoother, and his wit faster. If the Princess were around, she would say he was like a sleeping prince. If she heard correctly, Smithy was called the stable prince by the maids who giggled if he happened to pass their way.

Jane for her part would not bestow such a name on him, for haughty he was not, grand he was not, but handsome and generous he was. Charming, she could also say did not match him well, for that required a certain amount of deception. If she could pick one word to describe him, it would be generous. Honorable, he had proven himself to be, as well as industrious, but trusting, he was not. To know him, it took extra diligence, to understand him, meant putting away one's pride and to listen, to care for him, that much came easily.

An air of calm always surrounded him, but this way, with his arms at his sides, his face relaxed, he was defenseless. She knelt next to him, listening to his even breaths. She was thankful he could find peace for once. From up close, she took attention to his long lashes, and his average lips. Those lips, a healthy pink, they enticed her.

The mouth which spoke words of wisdom, of concern without reproach, of light instead of darkness. Never, had anyone spoken so carefully, discerning, softly meaningfully. As a living, breathing being, he was one of the best people she knew, someone who did no one wrong. Smithy was a blessing in disguise, and she was blessed to have him in her life. Of all the irresponsible things she had ever thought of doing, one of them was to kiss him.

If she wanted to, would it not be so easy to steal what was not hers? However, he would not accept it, because despite his position in society, he was proper, and would never cause harm to others. Why would she ever think she had the right to treat him as such? Perhaps if she wanted to, he would forgive her, because that was how he was. There were many things she did not know, but that much she knew.

Slowly, she stood back up, fearing he may sense what she was thinking.

* * *

By this point even the ladies were unamused. Fickle, heartless, dare he say vapid? An unintelligible bunch, except for the Queen and Lady Silvia, who Jester found delightful, and worth speaking to. Without his lady Knight, he found little to no reason as to why he should try to behave and be civil. Of course, it was his duty to amuse, so while the others talked of dresses, men, and skin care, he juggled. Something he could not get over was the change in Jane's mood a few minutes ago.

For that better part of that afternoon, she had been quiet, civil, and polite, so unlike Jane. So what caused the change?

* * *

The sweet smell of roses, which belonged to his beloved. He would know that smell anywhere. Either it was a deep sleep, or a dream, but when his eyes opened he was met by Jane, still in her lovely gown, "Smithy?" she whispered.

"Jane?"

"I am sorry if I woke you."

The blacksmith sat up, scratching the back of his neck. Certainly he was not dreaming, for he felt the bluntness of his nails against his skin. And to be woken in such a pleasant manner, he was not sorry it had happened. However, why was she here?

"What day is it?" he yawned.

"Only a few hours have passed."

He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes, and yawned a few times before he felt more alert. As eyes would do, they saw her, they looked, they traveled, they beheld, they observed. What could be said to describe what he saw? As the uneducated man he was, he could only think and feel in the way he knew how. He adored her.

Over time, he thought he would grow accustomed to her formal wear, but apparently that was not the case at the moment. Drowsy or not, Jane was in one of the finest gowns he had seen her in yet. It was to be expected, she was the Queen's guard, and the kingdom had enough resources to dress its knights in finery. Unlike years past, the fishing trade had picked up, attracting families and clans into the Kingdom, as well as artisans who carved jewelry of bone and wood. Thanks to the low taxes, even more families were persuaded to move into the kingdom, meaning the king could build up the treasury with the proper management of funds by the chamberlain.

Smithy decided it would be best to look at her directly in the face, otherwise he might lose focus. "I must have fallen asleep."

"I saw that." she smiled. "I figured you must have eaten a big meal, and were lulled to sleep by song birds."

"Not exactly. What about you Jane? What are you doing here?"

"I saw Pig from a distance, and thought you were near. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Why did such a woman exist? Why, she was more than a woman. Why did such a person exist to test his existence? With emerald eyes that sometimes could not decided if they were blue or green, with emotions that played over her features clearly, no matter how she tried to mask them. How could he ever hope, or dream that such a creation could care for him?

Dried leaves crunched beneath her shoes, and Pig licked up the crumbs which fell off her smiled, and handed Pig the pieces of apple she was going to plant. From her fingers, Pig licked up all the fruit and juices, and no sign of disgust passed the she knight's face, but instead warmth and happiness. Yes, Jane liked Pig, and Smithy liked Jane. Well, there was more then like, but he could not readily admit such.

"Why do you ask?"

She lowered her eyes, "Lately, it seems as though there was something amiss," she dared a quick side glance. "and I thought you were troubled."

The complexity and comprehension of the human heart, as well as the metaphorical one, with its intrinsic enigmas, layers, barriers, secrets, so many secrets, and so many memories; it was not the time to explain them all. When would there ever be?

"I fare as well as others who are in similar circumstance, though Pig does lighten the mood a bit."

The answer was tolerable enough, but she was left wanting. "Good, I am glad."

"Are you enjoying the Queens picnic?"

How should she answer? She would not be rude, but she would not mask the truth neither. Would he really care to hear? Did not mean dislike talkative women? No, it would not matter, because it was not a man, but Smithy; there was a difference.

Light filtered through the trees, illuminating the strands which dared to escape the head covering. Before she even spoke, Smithy guessed there would be trouble for a number of reasons. Jane, who was born from a well to do family, had defied fate, and became a Knight. All the time which she spent in the sun not only would darken her lovely skin, but birth more freckles upon her skin. Another problem lied in her intellect, which was as fine and sharp as any educated man, but with the cleverness of a woman.

None of these were negative, except to everyone who remained close minded, and hardhearted. Jane did not equal anyone, because she was different, which he knew the world would fear. He on the other had, felt the opposite. After a moment's silence, she answered. "I enjoy the queen's society, but her ladies are a different story."

A fault of the upper classes he found was their pride. He was glad Jane did not fit into that category. "Have they been civil?"

"Yes, but they are full of opinions, and enjoy to gossip and belittle others. The Queen and Lady Silvia are good company, but the others are just so…. Ugh! They are so annoying. I thought I would explode with anger if I did not get a little breathing room, so I left with the excuse of having to use the privy. However, I must return soon. "

"Do not allow them to take advantage of the situation Jane."

"What am I to do? It is such an awkward situation."

Oh how he hated to see the injustice towards her. If anything could incite anger in him it would be the mistreatment of his friends. "I know there are many words which could be taken the wrong way, and using insults would not be advisable, which is why it would be an excellent idea to kill them with kindness."

"Kill them with kindness? What do you want me to do? Stab them with a flower?"

He chuckled at this. "I mean, treat them with greater kindness than they deserve. At first they may take it as simple manners, but when they go to their homes later on, they will think about the day and find they had done wrong to someone they believe is a humble servant. Their guilt will eventually get the better of them and they will realize they must do better, be kinder, or else be eaten away by such guilt, and become what they most despise."

Recently, she noticed a change in him. Not an openness, but perhaps a leniency. Whatever it was, she appreciated the increased conversation. A quiet brilliancy, beneath all the smoke, sweat, and dust, was a disciplined mind. Still, it was not any easier to understand him. "Which would be?"

"Young women with wrinkles before their time, because worry and stress got the better of them."

Why had she not thought of it? Any woman with ice in her veins and vanity as large as the merchants stomach would care about such things as superficial beauty. "That is a champion idea," Jane frowned. "but I could never lie to them, it would be wicked."

"Then find what good you can see in them and focus on that. Win them over by example. There is good in almost everyone Jane, I believe you will see the rest comes naturally."

"It is worth a try, thank you Smithy."

"My pleasure." he smiled.

Please, she thought, do not say that. It made her feel special, which she was not, and cared for. It was like he was waiting for an opportunity to help her, which was just like him, but it seemed so coincidental. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

Please, she thought, do not be like the others.

"I am trying to rest before it is time for the preparations for the ball. In about a week or so, I will not be able to rest very much, let alone sleep a full night."

"The ball, do not remind me." she groaned.

Looking down at her fine shoes, and wonderful gown, she sighed. "Like now, I will have a fine gown I must wear. I am grateful for the generosity of her majesty, but it does not suit are supposed to look threatening, not..." she whispered, "pretty."

The dressmaker had outdone herself when she made such a gown. It would have suited any young lady who could afford such finery, but on Jane, it was like those embroidered colors jumped with life. Still, from the scrunched up nose, and furrowed brow, it appeared as though there was more of an argument within herself.

"What about the Roman soldiers? Did not their suits of armor include a skirt?"

"Yes."

"In your studies, I am sure you will find they were not a threat to mess with."

With crossed arms, she answered. "That was the uniform, it was the fashion of that time period."

Jane was becoming defensive, as was her nature when others made her feel anxious. "Jane, if I did not know you," He sighed. "I would have mistaken you for a lady in waiting."

"Oh."

Jane hugged herself, her tummy full of a hundred butterflies ready to crawl out of her mouth. She reached down to pet Pig, and was licked. After this she felt a little better. "I almost was once, but not anymore."

Knowing she would return to the picnic soon, Smithy grabbed the waterskin and asked her to stretch out her hands. They were feminine hands, as scarred, dry, and calloused as they were, and beautiful in their stubborn way. The coolness of the water was another welcomed feeling. Then, with his own hands, he scrubbed them a little, and emptied the contents of the waterskin. Even when he knew her hands were clean, he held on to them, and looked up at those confused, troubled eyes, as though everything he were about to say had no weight without such an action. "Jane, we have known each other for a few years now, and all I have to do is listen for your voice, and know it was you. A gown, title, upbringing, hair color, or sex will not change the fact that you are you."

"I know that much, but being a Knight is more than this. Nowhere in my oath did it say I was required to wear a gown."

"I would think not, but you promised to serve and honor King Caradoc. In turn, you were assigned the task of protecting her majesty, which might mean having to disguise yourself from time to time. It is better for you to wear a dress then Gunther, though I am sure one large enough could be made if occasion called for it."

"I know, but in truth, I do not hate it, but the others look at me as though...as though…. I do not know."

"They see you as you are Jane, a young woman who continues to prove all she can be. I know you are going to continue to stupefy those around you, but then again that never seemed to bother you before."

It was a comfort, his presence, his words, the look he bestowed upon her. The warmth, his friendship, it was something she could trust. "Thank you Smithy," giving his hand a squeeze, "I appreciate your kind words."

"No matter what you wear, it is your smile that always suits you best Jane."

Letting go of her hands, he immediately missed the warmth that had occupied them a moment before. Jane, for a while felt foolish. Was she not getting carried away again? It was only kindness, she had to remind herself. It was only Smithy.

"I must go, before they send Jester to look for me."

The clarity of the air, the rustling trees, and leaves which cascaded, there was a crack. Was it from the leaves or his heart?

To another man's attentions she would go, slipping away from his grasp. Then again, he had to remember, Jane belonged to no one. "Goodbye Jane."

As she walked back, as lady like, as softly, and carefully, she allowed the breeze to caress her cheek. The moon, nature, Pig, and herself are the only ones who could know. No one else could know the truth. There was still plans to be put into action, goals to accomplish, and to become distracted would not do.

Still, she could not help but feel a warmth in her cheeks when she thought of him. It was alright to dream as long if it did not hurt anyone right? Perhaps the trees would judge her, and the ladies would criticize the length of her privy time, but it would not matter. If anyone noticed the redness of her ears, or the dust of pink in her cheeks, if anyone cared to ask, she would be happy to blame it on the weather. With her head held high, she returned her gait, until it was so very Jane.


	11. Chapter 11: The Queen Approves

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **Because I've been so into the story game, I've kind of neglected this story. I know I've could of done better on this chapter, but I think the next one will be even better. Shout out to lareepqg, who left a great comment. Didn't think this fic would amount to anything, but I love these characters, and I'll do my best to write them well.**

* * *

The wind whispered to her, she breathed in its life giving properties. Branches touched her arms, lending their silent strength, and she swore she almost heard them speak. The lightness of heart, as well as the gaiety of good company refreshed her beyond belief. A changing of worlds would soon occur, and soon she would be in royal company. Soon, everything will just be, and it would not be so difficult.

* * *

In a few more hours, when everyone was back to their homes and comfortable rooms, the queen would have the right and privacy to kindly explain to a patient husband. At the moment, despite how cumbersome it was to wear a courtly smile, the fair majesty would remain as silent, and her cheeks as still until there was genuine feeling to change them. When Jane emerged from wherever she had come from, there was a vigor the Queen could not recall seeing. Confidence and grace could be seen in the straightness of Jane's back, and was that a blush dusted in her cheeks? Yes, and a genuine smile, not the courtly one she usually wore.

The brightness of Jane's eyes were as though morning had confessed its adoration to her. The queen nodded her silent approval, impressed by this change. It was an improvement from the calm, yet unfeeling maiden. She would be sure to voice her compliments later, but for the moment, her majesty would nod as though she cared for the talk about men and their inadequacies.

* * *

Jester happened to turn his head, and casually looked upon his lady Knight emerging from in-between the trees, and dropped all his juggling balls. My, she was a sight for sore eyes. His breath caught in his throat, and he stood, stunned for a few moments. The freckles danced before his eyes, he could name every one if he tried.

Before, Jester thought he knew what love could was, but those fluctuations were nothing compared to now. The man with bells on his hat and magic in his shoes skipped forward, and prostrated himself. Jane smiled with honeycomb sweetness, and the palpitations he usually associated with nervousness, made him more conscious of himself. He was all arms and legs, and in this act of worship, he would have nothing else to worry except for his heart.

"What a pity," he kissed her hand, "for a face so pretty to look upon thee.."

"Jester, this is not the time. What will the others think?"

Why should he care for what the others thought? All he could see before him was his Jane, the intoxicating enigma of a girl. "Sibylline creature, I tell you this, a beat, a kiss," the other hand he placed upon his chest. "my heart I wear upon sleeves."

Nearby, the maidens oozed of jealousy. Not much could be heard, but it all seemed enviable enough. Indeed, the tanned fool was very beautiful, even if thin and lean, but tall, every bit graceful, and elegant. Why waste his attentions on an inattentive individual as lowly as her when she was very plain and tall, and skin dark and freckled? Oh, they knew nothing of his gypsy heart, or of his charming ways, but only of what they saw.

There was no mistake in his gesture, no matter how flamboyant he tended to be. The look which almost stole her many years ago, it was there, with as much manly yearning as could have been expected from someone like Gunther, or….. well not Smithy. It was flattering anyone could so highly of her, but not in the sense of fueling feminine pride. There was no conquest to be had, and she was not about to weaken her grip on her stand on the matter. Yet, when it came to get friends, she hated to see them hurt, and would avoid poisoning her speech with meanness.

Jester really was a performer, an actor, an artist. It was amazing how the fool could just say whatever he pleased and made it sound charming or winsome. In the past, she wanted to feel as special as he made her want to believe. However, when she had watched how those words were used on many a fine women, for their amusement and pleasure, it disgusted her. It was his occupation to entertain, but there seemed to be an awful lot of deception in acting, but that was not the case at the moment.

Yet, she would not be swayed, for he flitted through emotions, and it was nothing more than a game. The game of life to him, and a race for life for her; it was all unpredictable. Out of sentiment for their friendship, Jane withdrew her hand, but with a softened smile nodded for him to continue.

"In truth," his voice softened, coated in a buttery richness. "you are pure as a dove, the fairness of your heart incomparable to your beauty."

"Fine words indeed, though I am sure my heart contains its fair amount of shadows. And if I were a dove, then it would be a speckled one."

"Will you not accept a fool's compliment?"

"I accept a friends compliment with appropriate humility if I am deserving of it."

If only he could take her into his arms and kiss away the insecurities. It did not matter who thought little of him, he knew his skill could be used anywhere. Of course, he could never tell her, but to protect the ones he loved, there was nothing he would not do. Nothing.

Plastering his usual winning smile, he laughed. "So my lady," with a wink, knowing full well to keep her identity hidden. "I daresay the forest has refreshed your spirits."

This she could agree to. "How could it not?"

A strong breeze threatened to blow away her head covering, and she held it as it passed. The perfume of earth and greenery, sent chills through her. It was as though it were calling out to her, trying to summon her back, needing her as much as she needed everything natural and familiar. In her mind's eye, Jane could see him… that is to say her friend, the gentle giant, his voiced laced with drowsiness, peering up at her as she were a wood nymph. What were her intentions when she followed after Pig?

It did not matter, because she had good intentions, and she would not not allow anyone else to say otherwise. "Can you not smell that, the gift of the forest, the scent of forever?"

Jester could not help but marvel at the brightness of her mossy eyes. Why, drowning her in compliments would achieve nothing except but her disdain. "I see, and does my cat jingle when I sneeze? What has come over you?"

She could not tell him. If they were to be in their best behavior, Jane thought it best not to tell him of her meeting with Smithy, and risk upsetting him. "Nothing."

No, it was not nothing. The lightness of her words, the brightness of her eyes, the twitch of a finger on her left hand. She was lying. Who was it? he wondered. Perhaps a romantic rendezvous with her fellow knight, a handsome woodcutter, or a sleeping prince who fell in love with her at first sight. Soon, none of it would matter. "You must have had time to think things over. Did you find what it was you were looking for?"

"I would prefer not to discuss my privy habits. However, I cannot get over how lovely it is today. Just look at that sun Jester."

Brilliantly she changed the subject, though it did not upset him. The sun stood before him, burning him, blinding even his thoughts. The ladies nearby were plain, excluding her majesty, and were beckoning him. Their eyes like daggers were pointed at Jane, excluding lady Silvia, and it was tragic they were so possessive. "Unless," his voice lowered. "you were trying to get away from the others."

"That would be rude," she winked."but I am determined to fulfill my duty, and be courtly and sweet. From now on there will be no more pretense. They will all see Jester, what I am made of, as well as the years of mothers training put to good use."

His fair beanstalk turned away, ready to join with the others. Turn around he thought, do not ignore me. If he were to share her again, then at least he would say his piece. "Wait a moment my lady."

In her ear, words, the like he knew she could not ignore were spoken. The light blush returned with a vengeance, but it was nonetheless becoming. Whatever those few whispered words were, he gave no clue of it, and off he skipped, then began his bits of acrobatics. The she knight dusted her skirts and took her place near the queen soon after. Whatever was all that about? Thought the Queen.

No doubt, the fool was worshipful of the lady Knight, but it continued to be a source of confusion to the other ladies. To the fool, Jane returned refreshed, almost brand new. Ever more lovely, ever more dear, Jester loved her more than he had any other year. Perhaps it was finally springtime in his heart.

* * *

It was no use, he could not go back to sleep. He laid there, thinking, which in itself was a dangerous thing to do. Smithy tried to think of his duties and what would have to be done, of the repairs which needed the most attention, and of her. Somehow his thoughts always came back to her in one way or another. Whether it was the weather, or a scent, even the birds, the sun, everything lead back to her.

Shaded by the trees, he could only imagine as to how she had found him. Yes, Jane had mentioned she had seen Pig, but was she actively seeking him out? His eyes went to his animal companion.

Was it Pig's intervention? No, it could not be. Sure, all animals carried a level of intelligence, but to play matchmaker was absurd, was it not? Was it so outrageous? Perhaps, but then again, she had surprised him before.

"Pig," he called her in that sweetness of voice which she could not ignore. "are you trying to pair me with Jane?"

Her squeal of excitement was her answer. The blacksmith sat up then, a year's worth of sigh escaping his lips. Oh dear, Pig thought, she had done it again. Why was it so difficult? She had upset her master.

"I appreciate what you are trying to do Pig, it is not appropriate."

Her dark eyes met those of her master, and it felt as though she too could understand his feelings. He was pained "I cannot… I cannot be hers. Please understand"

She had always understood. Yet, why did he do this to himself? It was only natural that a male would seek a mate, and he was a perfectly healthy human. If he cared to enter into a lovesick state, then it would most definitely not occur when she was around. Of course Pig would keep trying, even if it would temporarily displease him.

She squealed, and watched as he laid back down on his side, with his back facing her, and listening to the year's worth of sigh.


	12. Chapter 12: Home

***I don't own jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **I've been busy with traveling, hurricane season, and life,but I'm back and I'm working on several things. So, not sure when arc 2 of the story game begins, but until then I'll be working on this and other stuff. Sorry it's so short, but I promise the next chapter will be longer.**

* * *

"It is time to go back Pig."

There were times when she did not want to listen. She faced the direction of a friend, and cried in anguish. Why was her master not taking advantage of the opportunities given to him? Perhaps, because he was afraid of the possibilities. No, she had to try harder next time, or else her master would miss his season.

"Pig?"

If only she had been born human, then perhaps she could have been the one to make him happy. What did she not know about him? Then again, what use was there to think of such impossible things? While there was so much she could not do, Pig was determined even to go as far as death if it meant the happiness of her human. Life, at least the at the depth she could understand had been mostly good.

As the sky mixed with burnt reds and orange, she glanced upon his calm form. It had been another good day, and while it had been quiet, she was not sure if this was the way their life had been intended. No, she was a creature of action, and there was still so much to do.

Turning away from familiar scents, she squealed and they were on their way. The road home was a solitary road that would split into smaller foot paths. If one steered off the main road, and walked past the foot paths, along the river, one would eventually reach a farm. While it was not famous, it did have a reputation for well bred animals, mostly pigs. This was where Pig was born, but not where she belonged.

Footsteps, slow, but sure, followed by the small nods and sighs. Smithy stared at nothing in particular, but his neutral face warmed into something softer as he glanced beside him. "We are almost home Pig."

Home, it was the place where her beloved owner was, the place where his loved ones were. Pig belonged to him, because he was what made any place home. As the fields and foothills stretched out across the landscape, she wondered if she would ever forget these sights. If she had reminders, then she would never forget. She only had to look at him and remember she was home.


	13. Chapter 13: To Remember, To Forget

***I do not own jane the dragon or its characters**

 **Ugh, it's been too long. To everyone who is wondering, I've been working on several projects across the Fandoms, started a blog, and collaborating with different writers. I haven't forgotten my first Fandom, and neither am I done. I've been trying to hone my writing skills, and will be working on my next addition to the story game. I'm still here, I have not forgotten, and I hope everyone is doing well.**

 **As far as this story goes, I think I'm going to take it in a another direction than I originally had planned. Anyway, here is a chapter I had meant to post some time ago. Enjoy.**

* * *

When one walks along lonely road ways, one tends to linger in afterthought. "I never should have left Pig."

Gravel crunched beneath his feet, his footsteps steady, but lingering. Instead of basking in the well deserved happiness, he was determined to repress his feelings. It was not so hard before, when there was nothing to tempt him, before he understood the differences between animals, men, and women. Yet, temptation, the enticement which corrupted the flesh and spirit, it had found him. As natural as it was to feel attraction to others, there were times when he wished he might have been a eunuch.

"I knew she was going to be out here, somewhere. I should have stayed in the castle."

The day, it had been fine, with its cool breeze and sincere smiles. Jane, while their meeting had been coincidental, and most unlikely that Pig had led her to him, it was nonetheless disconcerting. Why had she not ignored him like most? What special attentions had he been worthy of?

With the realities of class differences, as well as mental capacities in intelligence and education, he was no match. They were friends, they had always been friends; it was how it had always been. "I need to avoid her for now on,," he sighed. "if we are to carry on as we always had."

As talented as he was, he was not above feeling. "I never should have left the farm. If I had never left, then I would have never known…. I would have never had to feel this way."

They would never be on equal ground, so why did he dare think he could dream? Castle life had made him a dreamer, a sentimental fool who could not distinguish reality between his wants and needs. Only in secret could they ever claim to be equals. Still, as his eyes adjusted to wakefulness hours ago, he was careful not to watch her with more attention than the occasion called for. Whatever thoughts which cared to follow were drowned out by the remembrance of tasks to take care of before he went back to sleep.

"Still, I shall never forget."

With a bittersweet smile, his eyes traced shapes in the darkening sky. "I cannot forget Pig," he smiled bitterly. "she is only my friend."


	14. Chapter 14: Peppers Revelation

***I don't own Jane and the dragon or its characters**

 **A/n: I feel bad that I have left this fic alone for too long. I have been busy with my blog, writing for other Fandoms, travel and life, and trying to improve as a writer. I haven't forgotten, nor have I left. I'm still around, though more in the background. I have acknowledged that when I started writing for jatd, I knew little to nothing and now, I can honestly say I have a few works I'm genuinely proud of. If you'd pm me and I haven't responded, it's because my email started to mark stuff from this website as spam, and so I'll respond at the nearest opportunity. This fic, I am proud of it, andand I want to finish it and therfore will make it shorter then I originally intended. However, I promise that I'll do the best I can, because I care about everyone who has supported for al these years.**

 **I hope you'll enjoy!**

* * *

Troubling days, as plentiful as the grains of sand followed him and his natural activity. The song of swinging hammers was the welcomed melody, with its smoothing, healing force, but willful, and its manner controlled by the silent man. There was little consolation except for the satisfaction which came from a good day's work, and a full stomach from a cooked meal, but as ever, he was a man; with little in the world but a pig and a determined soul. And while for her part, she was still a burning flame, he was quite in need of refinement; making choices, he stuck to them.

Pig knew, though she could not tell him, and Jester schemed, though the result was not yet certain. Oh yes, Smithy polished, straightened, and repaired all forms of metal, but cold fires were inadequate to his profession. And while his forge fire burned hot, the sparks which rested upon his heart were snuffed. The days, fortnights, and months alike, came and went; his overzealous everyday activity but the transition toward the methods of his destruction. Little passed through his silent barriers, except for the simple smiles which were but simple grains of his sacrifice.

Perhaps, it was his learned way, or he was the child of circumstance, but he repressed even his lesser attachments, until he was but the Smith of Kipper Castle.

* * *

"Petal, you must go to him."

Jane, having passed her fair share of trying tasks, as well as unwanted attentions, and goading sparring partners, simply came for a quick meal, as well as decent company. "If this is about Gunther," who had bested her in archery, as well as witty retort, and had the nerve to spread rumors, "then I do not want to hear it." or anything else requiring extensive thought at the moment.

"No," came the soft encouragement of the castles cook. "you are fully aware of who I mean."

With her palm, she hid her most expressive features, but Jane's plump mouth, pursed in half anger - half grief, asserted. "It is….I do not care to say."

"Smithy! I was talking about our friend," whose meal was still warm, though untouched. "he has not taken a moment's rest all day. I fear he may faint, or worse. Please, say you will speak with him. He had always liked you best Jane, and if you…. "

"Pepper!" Jane interrupted, fists clenched, "he is no friend of mine," with a slight tightness of regret which adhered itself to her tongue everytime the thought of him came to mind. "at least I am not to him. I cannot understand it, we were very good friends, but….maggots, he refuses to even raise his head to look me in the eyes anymore."

The cook, being wise in the ways which could be foolish, nurturing, and admirable in ideals that carried on even to the changing times, was struck with a thought; which once settled, was as stubborn as a mule. And this revelation made her bubble over with a newfound joy and amusement, and taking the hands of the she knight firmly, though with well meaning intent, enlightened her. "Petal, he is in love with you."


End file.
